


All It Takes

by Carissiima



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Consensual Sex, F/M, Lab Sex, Pregnant Natasha Romanov, Slow Burn, also u have lab sex, he falls in love with you, its great, thats the fic, you fall in love with tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-13 18:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14754188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carissiima/pseuds/Carissiima
Summary: Your job is to evaluate the mental health of each and every Avenger, making sure they're fit for their job. If they're not fit for their job, it's a good thing that you're also equipped with the skills to help them. That's the problem though. Not everyone wants your help, a certain genius billionaire playboy philanthropist included.(Tony Stark x Reader)





	1. ONE

You stand in front of the group, feeling extremely judged as all eight sets of eyes stare at you. They don’t even try to hide it! Hopefully your pencil skirt and maroon red blouse looks professional enough to garner you some respect from the crew. The black leather briefcase given to you by your sister is heavy as you hold it in front of you with both hands, palms sweaty and threatening to let the beloved gift slip to the floor. You’re nervous but amazed at the sight before you. You’re mesmerized by all of them, how can you not be? These people, these gods have saved the world. Multiple times probably, or at least more times than you know. They’re dressed so casually even, out of their suits and armor. You almost shift foot to foot at their scrutiny but you’re a big girl and you face them with a polite smile on your lips.  


“...and she is here for your mental health evaluation. It’s a new decree from your government that you’re all in tip top mental shape whilst you’re out fighting bad guys. The first thorough check will take a while but after it you’ll only see her a few times a year. Though I do not care about whatever state you’re in, the public does so treat her well.” Fury finishes off, clapping you on the shoulder closest to him. You almost laugh at his words. It’s not the government's decree that the Avengers should be mentally fit but his own. Nick Fury may give off a big bad wolf vibe, but in actuality is a clucking mother hen.  


“Hello, everyone.” You begin, raising your chin just a bit, moving your eyes so your gaze passes each of their faces. “My name is Dr. (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”  


“She’ll also be staying here, at Stark Tower with everyone--no but’s, Tony.” Fury cuts off Tony Stark’s comment before he can even open his mouth to speak. “It’s a 24/7 program for at least six months so I’m not gonna have her trekking all around the city. Now, Dr. (Y/L/N) has some paperwork that you all need to sign so I’ll get going since I’m no longer needed. Behave. All of you.”  


The director doesn’t say another thing and turns around to leave, FRIDAY opening up the elevator doors for him. Your eyes had watched him go and when you turn back to the group, you’re not sure what to do. A majority of the Avengers sit on the u-shaped couch including, from left to right, Thor, Captain America, Bruce Banner and Clint. Natasha perches herself on the armchair beside Clint and from the corner of your eyes you see Bucky Barnes and Loki sitting at the bar. Tony Stark is standing behind the couch, looking at you with such intensity in his eyes that you almost falter in your spot. After a moment you decide to say something but a voice interjects you.  


“Hello (Y/N).” starts the blond American hero, standing from his spot on the couch to greet you. He reaches out and you take his hand, reveling in the strength of his grip and surprising softness of his palms.  


“Hello, Mr. Rogers.” You say without squealing. You almost pat yourself on the back for that, but the great big smile on your face probably didn’t hide anything. The embodiment of justice is right in front of you and you can barely keep it together. Not to mention, what girl wouldn’t swoon with Captain America right in front of them?  


“Please, call me Steve.” He says politely but you shake your head.  


“I will refer to everyone as Mr. and Ms.” You inform him. “At least until we get to know each other. You know, formalities and whatnot.”  


“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady.” Thor says, walking over as well. He is bright and radiant as he reaches over to shake your hand as well. “I am Thor, God of Thunder. Come say hello, little brother!” With a sigh, the god of mischief stands from his seat on a stool that was at the bar and makes his way over to you.  


“Loki.” He introduces himself, eyes a beautiful striking blue. When you reach out for his hand he looks at it hesitantly before a nudge from his older brother makes him return the gesture. His fingers are elegant and cool, his shake weak as he obviously doesn’t shake hands with a lot of people.  


“A pleasure Mr. Thor, Mr. Loki.” You say, doing your best not to let your knees buckle under the intensity of them all.  


“Natasha.” A feminine voice says. You look over to the sound and find the Black Widow walking to you, friendly smile on her lips. “(Y/N), right?” She asks.  


“Yes, what a pleasure it is to meet you Ms. Romanoff.” You manage to say. God, she’s beautiful, you think, all beautiful green eyes and flowing red hair.  


“It’s nice to see a girl around here. I can only take so much testosterone.” She jokes, causing you to laugh lightly.  


“You know our testosterone has nothing to do with you.” An intelligent voice intervenes. “Dr. Bruce Banner, at your service.”  


“Oh Dr. Banner!” You exclaim, excitement flowing through you as you turn your attention to the handsome man. “I just read your latest paper, I must say I feel so honored to meet you!”  


“Awh, shucks.” Dr. Banner says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Thank you very much.”  


“Do I get that kind of treatment too?” A darker voice asks. You turn to find a dark haired man, flirtatiously smiling at you. “The name is James.”  


“Bond?” You joke, chuckling. A smirk plays on his lips and it’s nice to know your joke didn’t go misunderstood. “Nice to meet you Mr. Barnes.”  


“Clint, here.” Another male voice announces, waving at you from besides Natasha. He’s got shorter hair than the rest of them and you can see the edge of a hearing aid peek through on his ear. “So what are you going to do for us again?” Just as you’re about to answer, a clear voice from behind them all interjects.  


“She’s here to make sure we don’t end up in the looney bin.” Tony Stark says snarkily, arms crossed at his chest, making his way around the couch. “Obviously Fury thinks we’re all going to snap at some point. She’s a _babysitter _.” A little flicker of annoyance runs through you but you let the comment go. You accepted this job knowing that Tony Stark was probably going to be the most difficult of them all and you’re not going to back down.  
__

__“I wouldn’t call myself a babysitter,” You start, “but if grown men decide to throw temper tantrums the moment things start to change then I’ll take on the job.” A low whistle from Mr. Barnes causes Dr. Banner and Thor to smile. Even Loki manages a smirk but all Mr. Stark does is glare at you.  
_ _

__“Watch your mouth.” He states “You work for us.”__  


“Actually, I work _with _you.” You correct, raising your eyebrows in defiance. “I am to attend your events, your parties, your charities, your public conferences and etcetera. I am not here to cater to any want or whim you have. I spent the last 10 years of my life so I could help people, Mr. Stark, and I’d really appreciate it if you would respect that.”  
__

____

“Ten years? Yeah right. What are you, like 26? 27?” Tony asks with a laugh, walking over to you.  


“Oh. You’re right.” You say a little quiet than before, actually expecting him to get it wrong. “Twenty seven.” Tony’s jaw drops just slightly, forehead wrinkling as his eyes sweep over your figure. You don’t even have time to blush at the attention when someone else speaks, interrupting his gaze.  


“You’re a baby.” Clint points out, eyes a little wide. “Twenty seven? I don’t even remember when I was twenty seven. When was that, Natasha, like 1965?”  


“I’m finally not the youngest.” Natasha jokes , elbow nudging Clint and it makes you laugh.  


“How did you get a job here with so little experience?” Dr. Banner asks you, genuinely curious. “No offense anything but if you’re 27, you have to be fresh out of school.”  


“I merely finished high school early and went through multiple accelerated courses in college.” You answer, trying to be as humble as possible.  


“Multiple?” Thor asks, eyebrows to the sky. “You must be a genius!” At this you scoff.  


“Hardly. Everyone in this room is already ten times more intelligent than I will ever be.” You point out. “Now, before we nitpick apart my life, which I am happy to share, there is some paperwork that is best to be taken care of as soon as possible.”  


“You can put it over here on the dining table.” Bucky says, already walking over. You follow, heels clicking on the solid floor and place your briefcase on the wooden surface. You start to open it, putting in the code into the little numerical lock as the Avengers make themselves comfortable around you. Natasha sits on Clints lap when she sees that there may not be enough chairs, even though Steve graciously offers to stand for the lady. Thor and Loki joke as they sit, Thor’s positive demeanor trying to cheer up Loki’s grumpy one. Bucky finds his spot next to Steve, as if they’re glued to the hip and unable to be separated. Dr. Banner sits closest to you, polite and helpful. Tony still stands behind them, his glare ever prominent and glued on you. Briefly you wonder why he seems to dislike you so much before a question takes your thoughts into a different direction.  


“What is this paperwork for?” Dr. Banner asks as you shuffle out eight sets of contracts. Their information folders are also there at the bottom and you pull them out as well, placing them to the side. You click your briefcase shut once you grab multiple pens and place it on the empty chair next to you where Mr. Stark should have sat before you answer.  


“There are multiple reasons for this.” You say, taking a seat and brushing a strand piece of hair out of your face. “These are papers that protect both of our privacies, to an extent considering the job I am here to do. There are also contracts that state I will be here for the entirety of six months to evaluate and improve your mental state. In this packet you will find information on my purpose here, my methods of treatment and recordings, and much more. There are a lot of parts and you are all free to read through them completely before you….” You trail off as Thor takes a pen from your side of the table, flips to the last page and signs his name with a flourish.  


“Is that all?” Thor asks, looking up to you with a slight smile.  


“Oh, um, you just have to initial there and--are you sure you don't want to read the contract, Mr. Thor?” You ask, confused as he hands his pen over to Loki, who does the same. “Mr. Loki?”  


“I feel no magic coming from these pieces of paper, nor this writing utensil.” Loki states standing, his chair scraping the floor. “I signed it out of formalities, but I doubt it’s actually binding.” He’s correct, it’s not like actual gods are going to follow puny human laws if that’s not what they want. Not to mention, these are the _Avengers _; you can’t exactly make them do anything at all, contracts signed or not.  
__

____

“Come on, little brother. Asgard is calling for us!” Thor says, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “There is some business we must attend to.”  


“Oh, alright.” You say, waving goodbye to the pair of gods as they disappear quickly. You sit, watching as the rest of the team signs their names on the dotted lines and initials the proper places “Thank you all for trusting me so much, I suppose?” You say, smiling sheepishly.  


“It’s not like we’re signing away our organs.” Dr. Banner banters, shuffling his papers in place before handing them to you. “Unless we are?” His slightly inquisitive look is too funny and you can’t help but laugh. You shake your head slightly, shifting loose that piece of hair that you just tucked back. This time you leave it, soon getting used to its’ feel on the top of your cheekbone.  


“No, no organs being sold here. But please take a copy and look it over sometime, okay?” You ask.  


“Of course.” Natasha says, handing over her and Clint’s paperwork. “Not now though, Clint and I have to go spar.”  


“Hmm, spar.” Dr. Banner says, obviously not believing them, leaning back in his chair.  


“At least I’m not married to my lab.” Clint throws over his shoulder as they both leave, causing Dr. Banner to roll his eyes.  


“I was married to my lab for a lengthy amount of time as well, Dr. Banner.” You jest to the doctor.  


“Are you actually married?” Dr. Banner asks politely.  


“I don’t see a ring.” Bucky says, moving his head to the direction of your very empty left hand.  


“Ah, no. Hardly have time to date, nevermind find a man.” You answer. Hopefully your voice isn’t as bitter or dejected as you feel.  


“Maybe I can take you out sometime, doll.” Bucky suggests, flashing you a smile that would melt practically any girls heart.  


“Stop that.” Steve orders, elbowing his friend roughly. “She just got here, can you wait a bit before you’re indecent with her?”  


“Maybe I’ll consider letting you be indecent if you sign your paperwork.” You flirt back good naturedly. You hold out a pen for the super soldier and he takes it, fingertips brushing yours.  


“A girl after my own heart.” Bucky says with a smile, signing his name as Steve does so as well.  


“Alright, cold shower for you.” Steve says causing Bucky to laugh. “Thank you for coming here, Ms. (Y/L/N). I’m sure you will be able to help all of us with, uh, whatever it is.”  


“That’s the goal, Mr. Rogers.” You respond, taking the papers he’s handing to you. After another smile from Bucky he’s dragged away and soon you’re left with Tony Stark, still staring at you, still with his arms crossed. The setting sun lights up the side of his face handsomely, shadows less intimidating and more so intimate.  


“What’s your aim here?” The CEO asks quietly, walking over to take a seat. He leans back in it, crossing his ankle over his knee. “You work for some super secret evil villain team trying to weed out our weaknesses from the inside?”  


“My aim is to help you, Mr. Stark.” You reply, spinning the contract so it is upside down to you but right side up to him. “Would you like to go over the contract before you sign it?”  


“We don’t need help.” Tony says darkly instead of answering your question. “We’re all perfectly fine.” You raise your eyebrows, holding back your tongue with all the things you want to say. With a sigh, you reach over your stack of folders and pull out the thick one labeled _Stark, Anthony Edward _.  
__

____

“Anthony Edward Stark.” You start as you open the folder, holding it up enough so the man in question cannot see the words on the pages. “Narcissist, insomniac, alcoholic, anxiety disorder. Frequent nightmares keep Stark up for days at a time, only soothed by copious amounts of alcohol. Constant bedding of strangers with no emotions shows a lack of ability to commit and---”  


“What the hell are you reading?” Tony interrupts as he slams his palms on the wooden table. His anger radiates off of him waves, so hot you can practically feel it. Before, Tony is merely wary of the newcomer that had come to the Avengers tower with no knowledge to him. Now, well now he’s mad. The way his eyes bore holes into your head, it almost makes you want to shrink into your seat. You don’t. Instead, you stare right back into those pretty brown eyes and make sure you’re just as stubborn as he is.  


“Your diagnosis.” You answer him, shutting the folder and leaning forward, not breaking your gaze. “Mr. Stark, you are a _mess _. You refuse to believe it because apparently spending enormous amounts of money, drinking insane amounts of alcohol, shacking up random women and tinkering around with toys is enough for you to keep yourself in denial. But you are not okay, you are not coping, you are not mentally fit to be a role model and you are not--”  
__

____

“You don’t know what the hell you’re saying.” Tony growls, leaning in closer. His fingers grip at the wood, knuckles turning white. You should have felt afraid you're not. This man could launch you off this tower without barely lifting a finger and you know this, but you don’t care.  


____

“I know exactly what I’m saying.” You answer calmly. “Mr. Stark, I am here because Mr. Fury has deemed it important that you and the rest of your team are sound of mind. Fighting evil aliens, gods and people, it’s hard. Standing in the judgmental eyes of everyone on earth, it’s hard. Having every single move watched and analyzed and critiqued upon, it’s _hard _. Sometimes, right and wrong is not black and white, and I understand. I’m not here to meddle or make your lives harder. I’m here so you can talk to me. I am here to help, even if that means I’m just here to listen or sit beside you on lonely nights. So please, sign these papers and allow me to do my job.”  
__

______ _ _

A moment of silence settles between the two of you as Tony glares and you wait patiently. You’ve come across plenty of men like Tony; men who think their mental problems don’t exist or don’t deserve to be acknowledged. You’ve seen men like Tony crumble under all that weight and all that denial and you do not want that happening. Especially when it’s Tony Stark, Iron Man, CEO of Stark Industries. A man like him is needed, a man like him is needed to be at good mental health so he can lead and protect appropriately. You’re not about to let him destroy himself when so many in this world need him.  


______ _ _

Abruptly he reaches over and grabs a pen, clicking it harshly as he sits back down. You let out a little huff of relief as he signs the document and pushes it back to you. Without another word or look at you, he exits the room, leaving you by yourself amongst a flurry of papers. You reach over for his contract and flip it open to the last page where his signature is, large amongst the small text. He has pretty handwriting, you note. Sure it’s mostly scribbles but the big T and S of his name has a flourish to it that you didn’t quite expect. The _k _at the end even resembles a small star and you smile at it. Of course his signature is as dramatic as he is.__

______ _ _


	2. TWO

“FRIDAY, take me to the lab.” Tony orders once the elevator doors close, making sure  _ she  _ can’t hear him just in case the little doctor wants to follow him around and insult him some more. Genius billionaire playboy philanthropist sure, but narcissist? With a drinking problem and anxiety disorder? She barely even knows him. How  _ rude _ . 

“Yes, Mr. Stark.” FRIDAY answers dutifully. The whir of the machinery tends to be comforting but this time around Tony can’t help the anger bubbling beneath his skin.

The  _ nerve  _ of that girl and yes,  _ girl _ . Barely thirty and acting like she owns the place. Usually Tony can forgive a little arrogance, especially when the girl is so pretty, but this one is unbearable. What’s her damn problem? What is her purpose here? The team is fine. He is fine. Fury is always poking his nose in places that it does not need to be, constantly giving Stark a headache. The superhero’s jaw starts to ache and Tony realizes that he’s actually been clenching it for the past half hour or so he’s been around her. He lets the muscles relax and massages the area as he walks into his lab, the clear glass doors opening for him without question.

“Are you alright, Mr. Stark?” FRIDAY asks him. “Your heartbeat and temperature are elevated.”

“That’s because I’m pissed, FRIDAY.” Stark answers. He finds a chair and slides into it, leaning back and rolling into a broad area where he can project multiple projects. Instantly a few of them pop up, ones that he’s been working on to improve Natasha’s armor and Steve’s headpiece. He pushes it aside with a wave of his hand to clear the area. 

“What would you like to do, Mr. Stark?” FRIDAY asks neutrally.

“Where is (Y/N)?”

“She is currently on her floor unpacking, sir.” The AI pulls up a surveillance camera feed that shows exactly that. Stark watches as she teeters around in her heels as she brings in a few boxes that had been placed outside of her floor. He almost snickers at the way she kicks off her shoes in a huff to make moving things a little easier. 

“Okay, so she’s  _ not  _ sneaking around my building placing hidden mic or camera feeds.” 

“No, sir. (Y/N) is merely settling in.” 

“Alright then. Pull up everything you’ve got on (Y/N) for me and clear my day.” Tony commands, spinning in his chair. FRIDAY complies and soon Tony is neck deep in articles, thesis’s, awards and research that (Y/N) has been a part of. 

It’s all very good at a glance.  It’s obvious to see that she’s done her work and put in her time at multiple institutions. Her past is chock full of early achievements in private high school including being student body president and being accepted into every college she applied for. He finds records of volunteer work all around the world and mission trips although Tony can’t find anything concretely religious in her personal life. On her resume are internships at prestigious companies, outstanding research in undergraduate with well known doctors, and a shockingly good graduate academic career. Her research and books have won awards and have been recognized by multiple people in the academic field. She’s done remarkable work in developmental psychology, post traumatic stress disorder and mental diseases. 

There are plenty of pictures of her starting from the age of fifteen till now. Award ceremonies, honor society inductions, commencement and graduations. She has it all. What Tony finds strange is that he can’t find anything from before that. Nothing. Tony cannot find anything else about her before freshman year of high school, not even a damn birthday or hometown. No husband, no boyfriend, no significant other or family to be seen except for one adopted and extraordinarily boring sister. It’s almost like she didn’t exist before then. Almost like she’s a ghost.

Tony’s more surprised he didn’t know about her until now. With all these rewards he’d think the girl would have popped up on his radar at some point. He’s always prided himself on keeping up with the latest sciences, just like Bruce does. They are the academic scholars of their group after all. But he supposes that considering all her work has been done in the psychological field, he hasn’t quite found the need to paid attention. Most of the time he kept up with the harder sciences that he got his degrees in like engineering and physics. 

“FRIDAY, why can’t I find anything about (Y/N) before high school?” Tony asks, feeling perplexed. “Where was she born? Date of birth? City of origin?”

“Classified, sir.”

“Well declassify it.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I cannot.” Tony’s eyebrows come together quickly, never having heard those words before.

“...why?”

“The contract you signed earlier has been uploaded and put into my system. Per clause 32E, none of the Avengers are allowed personal information on (Y/N)’s life unless explicitly given by her.” 

Tony feels the headache behind his eyes swell to a unsurmountable size. 

“Should have fucking read that thing before I signed it.” Tony murmurs, dragging his palm across is face to try and ease the misery he’s feeling. Too late now, he supposes. He’ll have to read that contract over to a full extent later but before he can ask FRIDAY to print out a copy for him an email pops up at the corner of his eye.

_ SENDER: (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) _

_ SUBJECT: First Session _

For a moment, Tony contemplates whether or not he should open it or have it thrown in the trash right away. The petty part of him wants to print out a physical copy, shred it and then burn it in his trash can. Against better judgement, the billionaire taps the air where the email floats and a flurry of words appear in his vision.

_ MESSAGE: _

_ Hello everyone. I have attached the contracts that we have signed today for anyone that would like to review it. If there are any questions, comments or concerns, please feel free contact me through this email (which I reply to like texting) or calling me at my business phone of XXX-XXX-XXXX.  _

_ The purpose of this email is not just this. Though I am not your therapist, per say, I would like to set up individual or group sessions for us to better get to know each other. It’s going to be a long and arduous journey the next six months and I would prefer if you would think of me as a friend along the way. They can be done anywhere at any time and will last as long or short you would like. I would prefer if they were done by the end of this month.  _

_ Please email me your availabilities and whether or not you would like to have another team member there to chaperone (this option is always available). Thank you so much for your cooperation. It is my hope that by the end of my time here, I will have helped you all in some way in having you realize that you are not just superheroes but people too. _

 

_ Best regards, Dr. (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) _

 

“A therapy session?” Tony asks the air, immediately trashing the email. “What am I, a moody teenager?”

“I would not suggest disregarding that email, Mr. Stark.” FRIDAY comments. “(Y/N) merely wants the best for the team.”

“And what, you think her psychoanalyzing our moves and thoughts is going to be best for us?” Tony snaps. “No, it’ll make us feel confused and dazed and unable to focus on our mission.”

“May I ask what mission, sir?” FRIDAY asks, unperturbed by Tony’s attitude. “Ultron has been defeated.”

“Ultron isn’t the only bad guy out there, FRIDAY.”

“No, but all other bad guys, as you so eloquently put it, are being handled skillfully. Is there really anything out there currently that demands your utmost attention?”   
“Global warming, rising crime rates, the need for universal healthcare--”

“Sir.” FRIDAY interrupts, somehow politely. “Maybe it is time you focus on yourself.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it FRIDAY?” Tony sneers. 

“No, sir, that is not what I meant. You alone cannot better the world, but you alone can better yourself.”

The words ring true in Tony’s ears and he can’t quite remember coding FRIDAY to be so strangely majestic and wise but he takes it. Tony sighs for what seems like the millionth time today and starts to draft a letter to (Y/N). Fine. He’ll play her game. He’s good at playing games. But he’ll play it his way and his way only. 

Tony cracks his fingers to type out a reply. It’s short and not quite sweet, stating that he’s free at two in the morning only on Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. He smirks at this and a part of him is glad that he’s never truly grown up. Once it’s sent, (Y/N) doesn’t take more then ten minutes to reply. Reply she does, and irritatingly so.

 

__ _ Mr. Stark, _

 

__ _ I am free Tuesday and Fridays from two a.m to five a.m. Sadly, Sundays are my day off but if need be, I will accommodate. Let me know what specific date works for you.  _

 

__ _ Best regards, (Y/N) (L/N) _

 

Her reply is obliging and it irks Tony. He wants to get under her skin, wants her to squirm and get annoyed. She’s so put  _ together _ , so professional and so freaking helpful. For some reason, Tony wants to break apart what he’s so sure is a facade. He wants to pry apart her past and find what makes her tick. There’s just something about her, something about the way she talks to him that makes him twitch with annoyance. He responds and just like she stated before, she answers it like a text. 

 

**Tonight then, two a.m.**

 

**-Stark**

 

__ _ Mr. Stark, _

__

__ _ Sure. My office is located in my suite where I’m sure you can locate on your own. I’ll see you then. _

 

__ _ Best regards, (Y/N) (L/N)  _

 

It’s not hard for Tony to stay up till two in the morning because the one thing that (Y/N)’s got right is that he’s a bit of an insomniac. Till the time comes he entertains himself by doing a bit a work (still hold 51% of Stark Industries stocks) and tinkering with a few new upgrades for his suit. The moon is up and full as he leaves his floor, asking FRIDAY to take him to his designation. He’s not nervous per se but Tony has never been to therapy though many, many people have suggested he do so (Pepper and Happy mostly). He’s a grown ass man, nothing is going to change in him now. Can’t teach an old dog new tricks. 

When he walks into the suite, Tony’s not sure what he’s expecting. (Y/N) to be there? To be sitting ominously at a desk with her hands clasped, waiting for him? Instead though, he’s greeted with her making a cup of tea, wearing a thick pair of dark leggings and soft looking t-shirt. With her hair down and make up off, the women he met not even a day ago looks like a completely different person. Immediately Tony is thrown off and he stops in his tracks, staring at her. It’s bizarre because now he has a vast amount of knowledge on her past and who is, or as much as he can wean from the information she’s allowed him to have. 

“Hi, Tony!” (Y/N) chirps, way more awake than she should be. “Do you want some tea? I’m afraid I only have a few choices, I’m not entirely moved in yet.”

“That’s fine, I only drink coffee and liquor anyways.” Tony answers, finding it in himself to walk up closer to her. “Let’s just start so I can tell you that you’re wrong and we can both head to bed.” 

“Follow me then.” (Y/N) waves him over to follow her as she disappears to a new section of the floor. When he enters her office, it’s bare except for a cup of pens and stack of yellow notepads lined with blue. There’s two loveseats on opposite sides of an oak coffee tables and (Y/N) takes a seat in the one farthest away from him and closest to the desk. She adjusts herself, tucking legs up underneath her bottom to get comfortable. As she turns around to grab a pen and pad, Tony sits in the opposite loveseat, crossing an ankle over his knee.

“FRIDAY, please start recording today’s session.” (Y/N) orders absentmindedly, scribbling something her notepad already.

“So, what’s first, doc?” Tony asks cheekily. “Shall I tell you all my deepest darkest secrets? You know, I peed myself once in elementary school and blamed it on the kid next to me. I said he poured his juice on my lap and I’ve never really quite gotten over the guilty that--”

“This isn’t therapy, Mr. Stark.” Tony looks at her, eyebrows raised and lips pursed in disbelief. 

“You’re not stupid. You know I don’t believe that.” She sighs and brushes back a thick lock of hair, placing her pen down. 

“I’m here to get to know you, Mr. Stark. I’m here to help.” 

“I don’t want your help.” He bites out.

“But you deserve my help.” Tony doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not about to tell a stranger that no, he really doesn’t deserve her help. He doesn’t deserve any help. He needs to do it, whatever it is, on his own. So instead, Tony changes the subject. 

“Why do you have to get to know me when I barely know anything about you?”   
“Like you said, I’m not stupid, Mr. Stark. We both know that's not true.” The echoing words annoy him. The little smile on her lips informs Stark that she knows he probably cyberstalked her to the best of his abilities prior hand. 

“Fine. So you’re a doctor, M.D and PhD. Did a lot of stuff, wrote a lot of papers, got a bunch of awards. Good for you.” Tony starts, mind moving a million miles a minute. “Adopted at 14 to a pair of super uninteresting dentists with an equally uninteresting daughter named uh, what’s the flower? Because they’re so original? Oh yes, Rose. You even took their last name. But what before that? I can’t find a single thing. What have you hidden from me?”

“Are you asking about my childhood, Mr. Stark? Why do you care?”

“I don’t like not knowing.” (Y/N) nods, taking his words in.

“Alright, well then, if it makes you feel better know, my parents were mutants.” She doesn't even pause for him to take this in. “My mother was an extreme empath while my father had the uncanny ability to make animals like him.”

“What about you?”   
“I’m an only child. I’m ordinary.” The statement isn’t meek or bitter, just accepting. 

“Where are they then?” Tony inquires. 

“They died. S.H.I.E.L.D took them in for a check up one day, the way they do for mutants that refuse to do their dirty work, and then they came back in coffins.” 

Tony searches her face for a trace of sadness, bitterness or anger. There’s nothing that he can find so she’s either a really, really great actor or (Y/N) really and truly has just forgiven Fury’s softball team for murdering her parents for god knows what. That has to be a lie. She has to be faking it. Tony refuses to believe anyone is  _ that  _ well adjusted, mostly because he isn’t. 

“You walked in with him.” Tony says. “You walked in with Fury.” At this, (Y/N) shrugs.

“As far as I know, he didn’t pull the trigger.” She states. “And trust me, it took a really long time, a lot of therapy, and a lot of time in the hospital for me to get like this.”

“Uh, creepily calm?” 

“Happy.” Tony doesn’t quite believe that either. Happy? Who in this world is actually  _ happy _ ? Who is happy working for an organization that killed their parents? If Tony ever set eyes on HYDRA again he’s sure he’d black out and go on a rampage. But (Y/N), she sits there, calm. She sits there in front of him, trying to help him and it makes him almost sick how  _ good  _ she is. 

“Why did you take this job?” Tony asks. “Fury track you down? Offered you a pretty paycheck to keep your mouth shut?”

“I  _ applied  _ for this job, Mr. Stark.” She notifies him. 

“Why?”

“Because I believe no matter how rich, powerful, genetically modified and time-traveled you are, the mind needs to be sound.” (Y/N) answers. “What about you, Mr. Stark? Why did you take this job?”

“What job? Pepper is the head of my company now.” Tony answers, befuddled. “I mere go to board meetings once a month to sit and look pretty.”

“Not that job. Your job as Iron Man.”   
“It’s not...a job, really. It’s just something I do. Saving the world is really just a hobby of mine.”

“Do you have any other hobbies?” 

That’s what she does all night. She doesn’t ask Tony about his nightmares or his suit or his insomnia. She asks him what’s his favorite food is, what his favorite drink is, what his favorite cereal was when he was a child. Things that don’t really matter but things makes him think. They make him think back to his shitty childhood and indulgent young adult life, make him think about all the small choices he’s been making. She asks him questions and Tony finds himself answering, joking, flirting even once the third hour hit. She’s easy to talk to and surprisingly handles his banter well. He doesn’t want to admit it but (Y/N) is quite amicable after he got past the fact that she isn’t there to dissect him like a high school frog. 

Even stranger, when he goes back to his room to attempt to sleep he manages to do so (“Five hours of rest, doctors orders, Mr. Stark.”). It took a little bit and a night cap, but he’s asleep by  _ six _ . FRIDAY darkens his windows as the sun starts to rise and Tony sleeps. He sleeps. 


	3. THREE

Everything snowballs from there. After Tony made his way to your office, getting everyone else is is quite easy. It takes you far into August before you have a base for where everyone starts. The Agardian brothers came around first. Thor is the brightest man you’ve ever met, moodwise and nothing has brought him down. The wisdom in him comes in trickles but it’s there and his godliness shows. The man has lost a lot but all in all, you find him to be well rounded and mentally fit. You give him the okay and when he left, Thor gives you a friendly kiss on your knuckles. 

Surprisingly, you find that Loki loves to talk. About himself, about his past, about any issues and thoughts he has really. All he’s really needed is an ear and someone to be willing to talk to him.  He’s funny and his words are eloquent,; speaking to him really gets your mind exercising. After a few hours, you even find out that one of your favorite books was written by a good friend of Loki’s (which is hard to believe until he pulls out a picture of the pair lounging in the summer sun). For Loki, you plan on focusing on having him form connections with the rest of the Avengers. You pencil him in for a two month check up.

Dr. Banner is, in one word, awe-inspiring. He’s the most self aware Avenger and that’s probably the safest route considering if he wasn’t, NYC might be destroyed by the Other Guy. With Dr. Banner, you speak about his meditation exercises and latest works. You guys speak to great length about his past suicide attempts and he even confides to you about a woman named Betty Ross who he misses but is afraid to reconnect with. Your heart aches at the story and you encourage him to write out a few letters as an exercise. You ask him to come back at his leisure, whenever he’s finished and he says he hopes to see you at dinner. 

Your heart sings around Steve and Barnes, not because you’re romantically interested in them but because they are so endearing. Growing up around the 1940’s or so, there’s a real sense of chivalry that’s been embedded in the both of them, James a more obvious type of charming. Steve is just what you’ve been told he is; gentlemanly, sweet and polite. James on the other hand is a really flirtatious? You’ve only heard stories about his brooding and bad temper. When you ask him about it, his face goes soft. Steve takes his hand, intertwining their fingers, and you understand. 

Clint is a dream. He’s funny, cute and social. He’s completely and undeniably in love with Natasha. He holds nothing back and tells you all about Budapest, all his training, all his kills. When he takes out his hearing aids and you manage to sign to him a few crude sentences that picked up from your undergraduate college days, he grins so bright the stars are put to shame. He’s still iffy around Loki which you understand completely, but Clint is hopeful that the god has truly turned around (“If not, I’m still the best shot around. Don’t tell Tony though because he’ll lie.”). He misses his family. He wants a family. He’s not sure how to tell Natasha. 

Natasha, dear god,  _ Natasha _ . It’s an understatement when you say you admire her. The only female in this team that is stationed in the states and she holds her ground. The Black Widow takes no shit, not from Tony or Bruce or Loki. You want to spend the whole time admiring the femme fatale, but you had a job. You ask her questions gingerly, afraid to step on any sore spots but Natasha opens up only after you share your own stories. There’s not a lot of pain in your past, not compared to hers but she respects the fact that you don’t lie. Just like Tony, she’s done a bit of her own snooping around and when you gained the trust of Natasha, you know you have it for life. You ask her to come back in two months, just to chat and because you know there has to be something there that needs to be cracked.

Of course, just like you predicted, Tony needs the most work. He’s a smart, clever but incredibly self destructive and oblivious about the fact that he doesn’t have to take 100% of the responsibility of 100% of everything. His self care habits are the worst out of all of them if that’s not obvious enough and the stream of self deprecation going through his mind at a steady and unrelenting pace is probably more than you could have imagined. Asking him all those miniscule questions wasn’t just for the benefit of your own curiosity. The small things say a lot about the big things. You ask him to find the time to come in at least once a month, and he rolled his eyes at that before he left to go to bed, just when everyone else was getting up.

“(Y/N), it is almost time for you to depart.” FRIDAY reminds you. You glance up to the clock on your desk and find it nearing one in the afternoon. With a sigh you put down your notes and go to rub your eyes, only stopping when you realize you have mascara on.

“Thank you, FRIDAY.” You say. “Is Tony ready to go?”

“Yes, I just reminded him on the meeting.” 

You hum, letting her know you understand. Standing up, you walk over to the circular wall mirror on the far side of your office to check your appearance. You brush back a stray hair, trying to tuck it back into it’s place but it refuses. Frowning you continue to nitpick at your outfit, hoping it’s appropriate. Is the skirt too shirt? Blouse too tight? You don’t want to make a bad first impression. 

“Why do women primp and preen like that?” A voice asks, interrupting your little activity. Looking into the reflection you see Tony leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed. He’s inexplicably handsome in his dark blue suit and black button up, hair slicked into  place with what you’re sure is an immense amount of gel. It’s really quite distracting how well put together he always is. 

“Not all of us have the luxury of having stylists choosing out our clothes, Mr. Stark.” You answer, turning to the side to straighten out your skirt once again. In the mirror you watch his eyes do a quick sweep over your figure and pride blooms in your chest.

“Come on, we’re going to be late.” He orders, pushing himself up to standing position. You follow in his lead, grabbing your briefcase that holds your papers. You feel a little nervous as you always do when you know you’re about to stand in front of a crowd. Happy is downstairs in the car waiting for you two and Tony is sweet enough to open the door for you.

“Hi, Happy.” You say, connecting with his eyes in the rearview mirror. You like Happy, he’s polite and does his job. He drove you from the airport to your hotel and then to the Avengers Tower. 

“Hello, (Y/N), how are you doing?”

“I’m alright. We ready to go?”

“Step on it, Happy.” Tony demands, shutting the door behind him as he climbs in. “I wanna get this over with.”   
“I don’t even know why I have to do this.” You sigh and place the briefcase on your lap, opening it to go through your written speech one more time. The world whizzes by as Happy does indeed step on it. You didn’t think he would need to, the location is barely ten minutes away.

“The press loves rumors so it’s best to nip them at the bud if you’re going to be spending a lot of time at the tower.” Tony informs you. “So far you’ve been labeled a lot of things.”

“Like what?” You ask, afraid.

“Well obviously, you’re dating all of us.” Tony teases. “Clint is cheating on Natasha with you, America’s beloved Steve brought you in because he got you pregnant with a one night stand a few weeks back, and apparently you’re also the latest notch in my bedpost.” 

“The media is so idiotic.” You murmur, shaking your head.

“They’ll do anything to demonize you so do your best to be pleasant when they interview.” Tony suggests. “Keep it short, simple and try not to vomit. They don’t like that.”

“I’m fine at public speaking, Mr. Stark. If anything I’m worried about the image of the Avengers. There is a large stigma against mental illnesses these days.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Tony points out. “The team and I are gonna do whatever we want anyways.”

“It matters a little bit. I’m here to help you guys out, not make you guys look crazy.” You sigh and push away a piece of hair that’s intruded on your vision. You had written this speech weeks ago. It’s been proofread by your sister, your colleagues, by Bruce and Fury. It looks good but for some reason, you feel like it’s so fake. You don’t want that. 

“We’re here, Tony.” Happy says. “There’s a lot of people out there so be careful, (Y/N).”

“Come on, stay behind me. Keep your head down or the lights are gonna give you a headache.” Tony says, almost with care as he puts on a pair of dark glasses. He exits the car first and just from that, you see the camera flashes and clamor of the paparazzi. Tony leans down and reaches into the car, holding out his hand. You take in a deep breath before taking it and exiting the car as well. 

It’s overwhelming. Everyone is yelling your name, asking you a million questions. Tony holds your hand tightly as he brings you along. He’s much better than you at this, waving at cameras and signing photos with his face on it as he walks on. You feel like a newborn gazelle, wobbling down the pavement. Happy is shoving people out of the way, opening up a strip so you and Tony can enter the premises. It’s only when the doors shut behind you that you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You let it out and almost heave, placing your briefcase on the floor so you can flex your fingers after gripping the handle too hard. 

“You okay?” You look up to the concerned voice and find Tony looking at you with worry. “I know it’s a lot. Need some water or something?”

“No, no I’m okay.” You reassure him, swallowing thickly. “Let’s get this done.”

He nods and leads you to a backroom where you’re separated from each other and a woman attacks you with a makeup puff and comb. Tony leaves first to greet the journalists and reporters as you go over your speech one last time. A man with a headset comes up to you after about twenty minutes, asking you if you’re ready.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You mutter, allowing someone to mic you. You’re lead to a side curtain and you hear Tony say your name. 

Stepping out, you instantly feel dozens of eyes on you. You look out to the crowd and freeze. It’s crazy. You’ve spoken in countless conferences, had men and scientists and doctors scrutinize your research on live camera and try to deny your work. You do well under pressure, truly, so why do you feel like a deer in headlights?”   
“(Y/N).” Tony’s voice brings you back to earth. He’s at the podium, holding out his hand and without thinking you take it, regardless of the consequences. Voices start to yell questions, hundreds of them seemingly and you can barely understand.

“Are you two together?”   
“How long have you known each other?”   
“Where did you meet?”

“Dr. (Y/N), is it true that your parents were once a part of S.H.I.E.L.D?” 

The last question rips through you but steels you. You look up to the crowd and go to take Tony’s place, placing your papers on the sloping podium. You take in a breath and force yourself to smile, leaning into the microphone.

“I’m sorry if I seem strange,” You begin. “I’ve never been quite so famous. Mr. Stark is much better at handling the masses than I am if everyone can’t tell.” A few peals of laughter come from the crowd. “My name is Dr. (Y/N) (L/N) for everyone who has been wondering who the new arrival at the Avengers Tower is. I am  _ not  _ an Avenger myself. I am a doctor and I specialize in mental health.”

“What is your purpose at the tower?” One reporter asks, standing from her seat and holding out her mic.

“I have been hired to make sure our heroes are treating their minds as well as their bodies. That is my sole purpose at the tower and I have no romantic relationships with any of the Avengers. There have been many rumors lately about that and I am here to deny all of it.”

“What mental illness problems are the Avengers suffering from and who?” Another asks.

“I cannot disclose that information but I do want to state that one does not need to suffer from a mental illness to reap the benefits of therapy.” You reply. 

“Are you single?” 

“Excuse me?”

“Are you single? Do you have a boyfriend?” You grit your teeth and take in a deep breath.

“No, I do not.” The flurry of writing that comes after your answer infuriates you but you ignore it, moving onto the next question.

“Mr. Stark, is mental health the next initiative that Stark Industries will take?”

“Oh, one for me?” Tony looks up to the crowd before he takes a moment to think. “Perhaps. You know what? I like that word initiative. We’ll call it Mental Awareness Stark Initiative, M.A.S.I. Quote me on that. Are we done now? Yeah? We’re done.” 

Before anyone else can get a word in Tony has his hand on the small of your back and is leading you away. They’re still yelling questions at the you two but Tony ignores it, already pulling off his mic to give to the assistant.

“Thank you for that.” You say, lifting your arm so one of the other helpers can unmic you as well.

“They’re vultures, but you did well.” Tony compliments, giving you a proud smile. “Do you wanna get some lunch or something? I’m craving shawarma.” 

 


	4. FOUR

Walking into the kitchen to grab some more coffee, Tony does not expect to see a single soul at three in the morning. It’s been a horrible night and he just needs some peace and quiet. He pauses at the door when he spies (Y/N) standing by the cabinets, rifling through them. She wears a pair of capri cut heather grey leggings and fuzzy dark green sweater that practically swallows her figure. 

“What are you looking for?” Tony asks.

“Oh, Tony!” (Y/N) exclaims, turning her head to look at him. “Sugar for my tea but I can’t seem to find it.” Pouting she lowers from the tips of her toes and plants her hands on her hips

Tony walks over and opens the farthest right cabinet. He reaches up and pulls down a little paper bag of sugar to plop it down next to her. “There you go.” Tony says before going to make himself a cup of coffee. The sound of the machine grinding up beans and her metal spoon clinking around in her mug intermingle in a strange harmony. Tony just wants to get his coffee and go but then she speaks.

“What are you doing up so late?” (Y/N) asks him, sipping at her tea. Tony sighs and rubs at his eyes, unsure if he should even answer her. 

“I’m working on some updates for Natasha’s field suit.” He finally says after a moment. He turns around and leans on the countertop, crossing his arms. “What about you?”   
“My sister is in Korea so I stayed up to talk to her but now…” (Y/N) shrugs and turns to look out the window. “I don’t know. Just can’t go to sleep.”

Tony hums in acknowledgement. Out of the corner of his eye he watches as she places her mug down to jump up onto the kitchen island countertop. It’s something that she seems to do a lot, he observes. Sitting on things that aren’t meant to be sat on. It’s kinda cute. 

Abruptly, his stomach grumbles. The flush that rises to his face almost makes him dizzy and a palm comes to rest on his rumbling abdomen in hopes of quieting it. Looking to (Y/N), Tony can see the smirk of her lips as she takes another loud sip.

“I was, um, going to get some chinese food. You know, late night cravings and stuff.” She says playfully. “I don’t really know the area though. Care to help?”

A half hour later, Tony and (Y/N) are situated in the living room with a mountain of lo mein on his lap and sesame chicken on hers. There’s a liter of soda on the table as well as some crab rangoon, already mostly devoured. Some random channel that (Y/N) flipped on is playing a quite horrid and dramatic French movie with absolutely no subtitles. Neither of them speak French so it’s just been them two trying to figure out what the hell is going on amongst the bad acting and gaudy wardrobe.

“I think they’re siblings.” (Y/N) comments. 

“What? No, she’s in love with him.” Tony argues. “She’s said  _ mi amore _ like, a hundred times in the past ten minutes.”

“You can love  _ platonically _ .” She points out, waving around her pair of chopsticks to accentuate her statement. 

“No you can’t. Women and men cannot be friends.” (Y/N) scoffs and rolls her eyes at that.

“So what? Are you telling me that you and Natasha are having a secret affair behind Clints back? Shall I tell him?”

“Fine,  _ single  _ women and  _ single  _ men cannot be friends.” Tony corrects himself, grabbing a wonton from the coffee table in front of them. “It’s just not something that makes biological sense, right doc? Humans are made to reproduce.”

“Okay yes, a humans main biological goal is to reproduce,” She agrees, shifting towards him so she can look him in the face while she  _ schools  _ him. “But are we or are we not evolved and intelligent mammals with a social standards and hierarchies? Men are not made to have monogamous relationship and women are only made to have monogamous relationships but the thing is, because of how far we’ve come, there is no need for mass orgies the way salmon do to reproduce. We have stability, we have rules, we created a living environment where it’s okay and not biologically detrimental to have opposite sex friends. And those that still think women and men cannot be friends are just savages.”

Tony chokes on his food at that but ends up laughing at her audacity. He doesn’t feel offended or hurt, merely shocked. Stark has been called a lot of things in his life, a lot of derogatory and horrid things but a savage? That is definitely new. (Y/N) is chuckling at the way he coughs, pounding his chest to try and hack up that one piece of carrot. She goes to hand him a napkin and Tony takes it as he shakes his head. “I’ll let you win this one.” Tony croaks out. “But only because I’m choking.”

“Or because you’re wro~ng.” She sings, purposefully keeping his eyes off of him. Tony gives an exaggerated scoff.

“Listen here, you may know about  _ humans  _ but I know about  _ people _ .” Tony continues to debate. “Human nature trumps everything.”

“Then what about us?” (Y/N) raises her eyebrows with the question. “Are we not friends, Mr. Stark?” Starks thoughts halt at that. He shoves in a mouthful of lo mein and chew as he thinks, trying not to smile as he hears her laugh beside him. 

“I wouldn’t call us friends, really.” Tony admits, causing her to pout. “Acquaintances maybe? Colleagues? Amicable strangers?”

“Tony, it’s four in the morning, we’re eating chinese food and watching a movie. You are friends with me, it’s too late.” She jokes, reaching for the last crab rangoon. Tony snatches it up before she can get to it and shoves the whole damn thing in his mouth as she gapes.

“Do fwends do dat?” Tony asks, chewing loudly. She gives him a disgusted look but laughs anyways, shaking her head.

“I guess all men are repulsive, superhero or not.” (Y/N) comment.

“What, your last ex-boyfriend was a little sloppy?” Tony asks casually.

“We were only 22 so I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt that he was gross because he was young and not because it was his personality.” She answers. When Tony stares at her in disbelief, she stares back. “What?”

“You haven’t been laid since you were 22?” (Y/N) gives an offended scoff at that.

“Sorry Stark, I don’t discuss my sex life with amicable strangers.” She quips.

“Fine, we’re friends. Now tell me about the man that was so bad at sex that he turned you off for five years.” Tony demands, holding back laughter.

“He wasn’t  _ bad _ .” (Y/N) tries to defend, thinking back into her younger years as Tony lets out a laugh. “We were kids, inexperienced.”   
“You’re  _ still  _ a kid. Wait till you hit thirty, sweetheart.” 

“Fine,  _ dad _ , whatever you say.” 

Tony continues to laugh but the words have an impact. He really is old enough to be her dad. Old enough to be her damn grandpa is he’s going to be honest with his age. Tony sighs and shakes his head, getting up to get something to drink. (Y/N) gets up to following him, choosing water instead of the juice he pulls out of the fridge.

“What about  _ your  _ ex?” She asks him. 

“Pepper? What about her?” The name is bitter on his tongue but he does his best to stay relaxed. 

“Are you guys still on good terms?” Tony’s mouth slants at that and he takes in a deep breath to let it out a few moments later.

“I don’t know.” Tony finally answers. “When she left, there was a lot of yelling and I barely remember any of it. I’m sure FRIDAY’s got a video of it cached somewhere if you wanna pull it up and analyze it.”

“You don’t talk to her anymore?” Tony shakes his head, dropping his now empty cup into the sink.

“She resigned. Got a new assistant a week later. That was that.”

“When I left my boyfriend, he was  _ not  _ happy. I don’t even know why because we weren’t together for that long.” (Y/N) pours herself another glass as she continues to speak. 

“How long together were you?”

“I mean, two years or so? I thought we were doing what kids do so when I got into graduate school across the country, breaking it off just seemed to be the right thing.”

“You didn’t love him?” Tony inquires softly. He watches as her finger runs around the rim of the glass, her face pensive.

“I don’t think so. If I did, it would have hurt more.” She murmurs. “It didn’t hurt though. I just felt nothing.”

“I loved Pepper.” The confession comes out and hangs in the air, thicker than molasses. The look that she gives him makes him want to rip things apart. He hates the pity in her eyes. He’s Tony freaking Stark. He doesn’t need pity.

“What happened?”

The searing pain that he felt when Pepper first left comes back with a vengeance. He’s done so well these past few months, ignoring it and cramming it into a bottle to throw into the back of his mind with all the other bottles that hold his regret and anger. Somehow, (Y/N) had a way of reaching back there and popping off the cap, bathing his mind in all the feelings that he wants to just ignore. It takes a moment for him to answer, which surprises him considering he hates to talk about it. 

“It was too much for her.” Tony says, blanching his voice of any sadness or anger. “Just….all of it.” It was too much. The nightmares, the drinking, the heart problems and constant putting himself in danger--Tony can hear Pepper screaming about it now. He can feel her hot tears falling into his palm as he cupped her cheek. He remembers the silence of the bedroom the first night she left, leaving him alone.

“The superhero life isn’t for everyone.” (Y/N) tells him as if he doesn’t already know. “In the end, you have to do what’s best for you; for your own well being and your own mental health.”

“Guess I’m not good enough to suffer for.” Tony jokes bitterly.

“Well why do you think I’m here?” 

When she walks over to put her own cup in the sink, she bumps his hip with her own. Tony smiles at that and affection swells inside him like an overfilled water balloon. But when she looks at him to ask him if he wants to finish the movie tonight or not, her vibrant youth almost knocks him out. She’s barely thirty, he keeps reminding himself. She’s not even thirty and he’s certainly well  _ past  _ thirty. Since he’s well past thirty, Tony definitely knows what this feeling in his heart is and it’s so damn wrong. He can’t start crushing on someone that is barely freaking thirty. Sleep with? Sure, why not. He does that all the time. But crush on? Feel a commitment  towards? No, absolutely not. 

Yet, when she seats herself beside him on the couch, a little bit closer than she needs to be, Tony feels the affection in him continue to grow in size and in depth. It’s stupid, he knows, because less than a week ago he wanted to kick her out. Less than a week ago, he didn’t even know her. How did it turn around so fast? And how can he stop it?

 


	5. FIVE

When Natasha walks in, you feel the immediate change in the air. The beautiful face that you’ve grown accustomed to is dark and serious and you know today’s session is not going to be pretty. Without a word, the Black Widow takes a seat across from your desk, bringing up one of her legs to tuck under the other. The adjustment to get comfortable shows her vulnerability and you gently make your way to sit in the armchair across from her. You don’t even bring your I notebook or pen to write down progress. 

“FRIDAY, please start recording today's--”

“Can we not do that this time?” Natasha interrupts, finally looking up to you. A corner of your mouth slants at the request. You’re really not supposed to allow that. Like, really, really not supposed to. But the look on her face and the despair in her eyes, it changes you completely.

“Okay.” You say. “FRIDAY, please excuse yourself for an hour. Completely.”

“Yes, (Y/N). I will return at 2:03 p.m.” FRIDAY says. There’s a small sound to signal FRIDAY exiting and only then does Natasha seem to breathe.

“Natasha.” You start, finding your way over to her side of the room. “Are you okay?” 

She doesn’t say anything to you, merely shifting so she faces you. Her vibrant hair is pulled back in a ponytail but it doesn’t stop from accentuating her pallor. You reach for her hand slowly, knowing that female physical touch is still a little new for Natasha. She doesn’t flinch when you rest your hand on hers but instead removes her own. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a little white stick.

“I’m pregnant.” Natasha murmurs. 

“Oh my god.” All at once a million emotions fly through you. Happiness for your friend but confusion as well. “But didn’t they--didn’t the Red Room--”   
“Yes, they did.” Suddenly Natasha laughs and shakes her head, eyes glued on the stick with two little pink lines running through the small one inch screen. “They definitely did. So how the fuck did this happen, (Y/N)?” You reach for the test because you just need to hold it and make sure it’s real. She surrenders it to you after a second and watches you as you look at it. It’s clearly there, the pink line, and before you let your feelings get the best of you you think logically.

“Well,” You start. “First of all, this could be a false positive. I mean, those happen all the time and--”

“FRIDAY confirmed it for me.” Natasha interrupts emotionlessly. “I’m already two months along.”

“Oh. Natasha, you know, sterilizations are not always 100%. The female body’s sole biological purpose is reproduction. Unless they took out your whole uterus or ovaries, there’s always been that miniscule chance that you could have gotten pregnant.”

“This is fucking crazy.” Natasha murmurs with a warped smile on her face. “I’m in my mid-fucking-thirties. And this is when my body decides it’s a good time to get pregnant?” She takes back the test and leans back on the sofa, holding it up in front of her. For a second you’re scared she’s going to throw it at a wall or something but then her face softens. The smile slips from her lips after she licks them and for a moment, you see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “This is just so cliche.”

“How so?”

“How is it not?” Natasha snorts but places a soft hand on her lower stomach. She’s not even showing but with the knowledge you now have you can’t help but melt at the action. “Poor little assassin, living her whole life not being able to have a baby. I wasn’t even given a choice whether or not I would be a mother so I never worried about it. I was trained like that. It’s not like I’ve ever wanted one. I never felt that clawing need to have a baby. But can you believe that right now, with this goddamn fetus inside me, that it’s all I want? Like I can’t believe I’ve ever wanted anything else?” The confession claws at your heart and you want to hold her. 

“Is it Clints?” You ask softly after a minute. She nods, eyes still stuck on the pregnancy test.

“Do you think he’ll want it?” Natasha’s voice is so much quieter than you’ve ever heard it before. Living with a team of men, men who are superheroes nonetheless, Natasha has always had to be loud to be heard. The silken sound of her voice almost escapes you.

“Are you going to keep it?” You ask instead of answering. Natasha takes in a shuddering breath and drops the test to the floor.

“Doesn’t matter.” She says grimly. “I can’t have a baby right now. Or ever. It’s ridiculous to think so.”

“Why?” You ask, truly perplexed. “Everyone deserves a family.”

“(Y/N), I’m a vigilante--”

“Superhero.”

“Fine,  _ superhero _ .” Natasha repeats even though you know she hates that label. “I fight bad guys. How am I supposed to do that with a parasite in my uterus, giving me heartburn and making me lose my hair?”

“Take a break.” You answer simply. Of course, nothing is ever that simple so you continue speaking before she can shoot down your idea. “Natasha, I cannot speak for Clint, but if I know Clint at all, he would want kids. And he would definitely want them with  _ you _ . I know that white picket fence lifestyle wouldn’t work for either one of you; neither of you want it anyways. But this baby, if you want, can be born. You can be happy with this baby.”

“We can’t.” She refuses. “People will come after her, (Y/N)! They’ll use her to get to me, they’ll kill her, they’ll--”

“Natasha, Natasha,” You say, stopping her and taking her hands in your own. You look straight into her eyes, making sure she can see the honesty in your own. “what baby is going to be more protected than a baby with the Black Widow as her mother, Hawkeye as her father, and the Hulk, Ironman, Thor, Loki, Captain America and the Winter Soldier as their uncles? Think about it. Do you think any of them are ever going to let any harm come to that baby? You think they wouldn’t all rather die than let that happen?” She pauses at that and you feel her grip tighten on your fingers. 

“Can I--can we tell Clint?” Natasha asks. 

“In here? Are you sure?” You say back, puzzled. 

“I think it might be easier with you here.” She confesses. 

“Of course. Anything you want.” 

Telling Clint is just about as easy as you think it’s going to be. At first he screams (“ARE YOU SERIOUS?! NATASHA, ARE YOU SERIOUS?!), and then he cries, and then he kisses Natasha so sweet that you could feel all your teeth rot out of your mouth. You cry for them (you cry a lot lately) and when Clint kisses your face, thanking you as if you’re the one that got her pregnant. Seeing Natasha smile, unabashed, it makes you glow. 

You’re there when she announces it to the team and the reaction is heartwarming. Steve yells as well, running and lifting Natasha into the air until he gets scared that he’s going to hurt the child. Thor and Loki bless the unborn child with a citizenship in Asgard if ever need be and Bruce is adorably emotional, talking about sonograms and monthly check ups. Tony takes the news well, teasing Clint about paternity leave and promising a little baby Iron Man suit (that Natasha shoots down instantly). 

Everyone is so happy and ecstatic, even yourself so it’s crazy to think that just a few weeks ago you had felt lonely. Just a few weeks ago, you had felt bored of life, of your job, of everything you were doing. But now, here, with everyone surrounding you, you feel your ambition start to return. 

  
  
  


When your phone rings during dinner you jump in your seat. Looking around, no one else seems to notice. Clint and Bucky are too busy fighting over the last pork chop while Natasha is laughing with Steve over a glass of wine. Bruce and Tony are fighting over algorithms to solve infinite rubiks cubes or something, the idea of it making your head hurt. You make a note that it’s Tony’s second drink of the night but he’s really been nursing that scotch so you let it be. It’s one of those rare nights that Loki and Thor have returned from Asgard, bringing strong Asgardian alcohol with them to spice up the night. 

Realizing you’re unneeded, you quietly excuse yourself to the kitchen, taking your own glass of red wine with you to pick up your sister’s face call. You take a seat at the bar as your screen lights up and there Rose is, bright and beautiful.

“Hey sis!” Rose chirps, smiling at her camera.

“Hey Rosie.” You grin back, her bright face making you gidder than you expected. “How’s school going? That psychology class still giving you trouble?”

“Nope, I found me a cute tutor that gives me all of his old exams.” Your sister flips her hair dramatically and bats her lashes.

“You’re a 85% lesbian, Rose.” You state as you laugh, poking fun at her bisexuality. “You can’t just lead guys on like that.”

“I know I should care but I do not.” She answers. “I can’t get into law school with a measly C in my psychology courses, you know that.”

“Why trick some poor guy when you have sister with a literal PhD?” You ask her, taking a sip of your wine. 

“Because you’re not here at my beck and call like he is.” Rose gives an exaggerated pout but then her face lights up. “I’m bringing my girlfriend home for Thanksgiving! You can finally meet her.”

“Yeah? When’s dinner again?”

“Mom says around four so come at six. And bring that cool drink of water, Mr. Tony Stark. He is so fine and--”

“I heard my name!” A voice announces. You jump in your seat and suddenly Tony is behind you, leaning down so he can appear in the frame. His left hand encases you between him and the bar, the other one holding his drink. He’s so close you can feel his warmth on your back and smell the liquor on his breath. Hints of his cologne is there too, sharp and sobering. 

“Mr. Stark!” Rose exclaimed happily, laughing escaping from her throat. “Mom wants me to invite you and the Avengers to Thanksgiving dinner.” 

“Rose.” You bite out. “I’m sure Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers have other plans for the holiday.”

“Actually,” Tony starts, giving you a slurred little smile. “Even though the rest of them already have plans, I’m free. One hundred percent.” You give him a confused look at that and before you can stop Rose, she’s already yelling for your mother about setting an extra plate at the dinner table.

“You want to come to my house for Thanksgiving?” You ask him incredulously as your family titters in the background. 

“It’d be rude to turn down an invitation.” He states as if that’s a good enough reason. You know he refuses plenty of invitations; parties, dinners and legal meetings included. The smile on his face widens and you know it’s the drink in him that’s making him do this and the wine in you almost wants to let it happen. 

“Tony, come on.” You continue to say, waiting for him to crack. “I live in Maine. It’ll be a bit of a drive.”

“We’ll take my plane.”

“My mom cooks and she burns water.”

“I’m sure it’s  _ great  _ water.”   
“I heard Tony Stark is coming to dinner!” Your mother shrieks, her face appearing on the phone. 

“Yes! Hello! I would love to come to dinner!” Tony plucks your phone out of your hand so he can charm your mother into making a ham  _ and  _ turkey this year. 

“Oh my god.” You whisper, not believe that this is actually happening. You turn around from your seat and find him introducing her and Rose to the rest of the Avengers through your phone and you can’t help but laugh. It’s so cute that you shake your head. Guess Tony Stark is coming over for Thanksgiving.

The (L/N) household is, in one word, charming. Tony looks up at it through the first snowfall of the year and wonders how this weekend is going to go. It’s a large sort of cottage with brick walls and a gravel filled circle driveway. When he had practically self invited himself to  (Y/N)’s home for the holidays, he didn’t expect the plan to come into fruition. Sure he and (Y/N) are a little more friendly with each other now but meeting parents and coming home for the holidays is so….cushy. Romantic even. Tony absolutely did not realize (Y/N) was going to allow this to happen. But then she asked him what time is the flight and Tony had to hire a last minute pilot who would fly them in right before the holidays. 

“So my family is touchy, okay?” (Y/N) warns him, pulling her last bag out of the trunk of the car. He goes to reach for it but she swings it out of his reach. “I mean it. Mom loves to pinch cheeks and Rose is a hugger.”

“I can handle a few parents, (Y/N).” Tony says, reaching for it once again and succeeding to wrench it from her fingertips. “It’s nice to see family during the holidays, even if it’s not my own.” Speaking of family, Tony’s eyes are drawn to the oak door as it opens to reveal a young woman, waving frantically. 

“(Y/N)! Oh my god!” 

“Rosie~!” (Y/N) grins widely, something he hasn’t seen before, as she does her best to run over to her sister. Tony tips the driver generously and makes his own way to the porch, shoes scrunching on the snow dusted gravel. He carries both of their bags, hers considerably heavier than his. 

“Look at you! Oh my god, Rose, you dyed your hair?!” 

“Yes, I did! I’m a blonde now, isn’t hot?”

“Holy shit, you look so good!” 

Tony smirks at the way the sisters shout each other, obviously excited to both be home. They’re both still talking as he shuts the door behind himself, blocking off the cold. Tony can smell something delicious cooking and he can hear pleasant holiday music play as well. When he turns back around, (Y/N) is smiling at him so genuinely that he feels like she just knocked him off his feet.

“Tony, this is Rose.” (Y/N) introduces, head tilting towards her little sister. Finally seeing Rose is real life is nice. She’s just as perky standing in front of him compared to when she was on the phone. 

“Hi, Rose. Tony.” He goes to shake her hand but like (Y/N) warned him earlier, he’s tackled by an embrace. He’s knocked back a foot by Rose’s tackling hug and his breath is squeezed out of him by his arms. 

“I can’t believe Tony Stark is in my house! Oh my god! Hi!!” A voice shrieks in his ear. He chuckles and pats the young girls back.

“Okay, okay, he needs to breathe, Rose.” (Y/N) peels her sister off of Tony and nudges her towards a hallway. “Go get Mom and Dad!” 

“You were right, she’s a hugger.” Tony says, going to pick up his bag as the young one jogs away.

“Oh, just leave it. Come meet my parents.” Casually she loops her arm through his, bringing him along. Tony glances at the linkage for only a moment before dutifully decided that the holidays must have turned (Y/N) into a completely different person. 

“Oh, there she is! And with such a handsome man!” Tony spies what must be (Y/N)’s mother in the kitchen, bringing a freshly baked pumpkin pie out of the oven. She’s a short and thin woman with a kind face. She smiles at the pair and her pearly whites remind Tony of her occupation. She looks older than Tony but not by much, maybe ten or so years and for a moment Tony feels strange being here as (Y/N)’s guest.

“Momma, it’s so good to see you!” (Y/N) leaves his side to hug her mother, kissing her cheeks. “This is Mr. Tony Stark.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Everyone knows who Mr. Stark is!” Mrs. (L/N) states, walking over to him. “Welcome to my home, Mr. Stark.”

“A pleasure to see you, Mrs. (L/N).”

“Please, just call me Jules.” Jules smiles and gives Tony a great big hug. He doesn't think he’s been hugged this much… ever.

“Well, Jules, I must say the camera does no justice for your beauty.” Tony says flirtatiously. The lady in question giggles and a blush comes to color her face. Tony’s lips curl into a small smile at (Y/N) rolling her eyes.

“Who is out here flirting with my wife?” A voice asks playfully. 

“Dad!” (Y/N) hurls herself at a tall, slightly pudgy man who makes his way into the large kitchen.

“Sugarcube!” Her father exclaims, holding her tight to lift her up and spin her. Tony feels something warm bubble up inside his chest at the sight of a father and his daughter looking so happy. Mr. (Y/N) is extremely tall, taller than Tony, and he’s build thick like a trunk. For a moment Tony feels intimidated the way he did when he was in highschool, picking up his date for prom and her father showcased his prized shotgun at the doorway. 

“Dad, this is Tony.” (Y/N) introduces, bringing her father over.

“Hello, sir.” Tony says respectfully, going to shake the older gentlemans hands.

“Sir? I’m barely a few years your senior! Call me George.” George shoots Tony a smile and grips his hand firmly. “You drink, Tony?” Tony decides he likes George but he finds himself glancing over to (Y/N) as she converses with her mother.

“Actually, I’m sober now.” Tony finds himself saying without thinking. “But I did brink a nice bourbon whiskey for the man of the house if you’d like to crack that open.”

“Oh no, no whiskey for George.” Jules interjects. “It makes him far too rowdy.”

“But you love it when I’m rowdy.” George points out, going to kiss his wife. He goes to hold her at the waist and places Jules arms around his neck so they can start to sway to the music playing.

“Where is Tony staying tonight, Momma?” (Y/N) asks, squeezing past her parents. 

“Two of the guest rooms are being redone right now so let him stay in your room.” Jules responds, giggling as her husband presses a kiss to her temple.

“So I’m sleeping with Rose for the weekend?”

“Um, my girlfriends coming over this weekend.” Rose announces, re-entering the kitchen. “She’s on her way right now.”

“Girlfriend?” George asks, eyebrows coming together in question. “What happened to that boy that was over here last week?”

“Dad, he’s my  _ tutor _ .” Rose points out, going to the fridge and grabbing a chilled wine bottle out of it. “Lexi is my  _ girlfriend _ .”

“We’ll make up the couch then.” (Y/N) suggests before turning to him. “You can take my bed, Tony.”

“Oh no, absolutely not.” Tony refuses. “I’m not going to take your bed in your own home. What am I, a savage?” Her knowing smile at the reference pleases him, even if she does shake her head.

“Well I’m not gonna make you sleep on the couch!” (Y/N) exclaims. 

“Just pull out the trundle bed.” Rose says. “Like when we were kids.” 

“I don’t think Tony will be comfortable with that.” (Y/N) reasons, mouth slanting.

“It’s alright.” Tony reassures her. “It’s better than having you sleep on the couch.”   
“That’s sweet of you, Tony!” Jules compliments, extracting herself from George. 

“If that’s the case, I’ll go get some sheets from the closet.” Rose offers. “You wanna show him to your room?”

“Yes, yes, we should hurry. Dinner will be served in an hour.” Jules says. “It’ll give you time to wash up.”

It’s a bit quiet as Tony goes to grab the bags with (Y/N) and he’s afraid he’s crossed the line. He can always leave right after dinner. Tony ordered a suit to be at standby and the controls are right in his watch if he wanted to activate it. He doesn’t want to make (Y/N) uncomfortable, it’s actually the very last thing he would ever want to do.

“Don’t make fun, okay?” (Y/N) says, leading him to a doorway. “I haven’t changed this room since I was 20.”

“Scared I’m going to see your boy band posters?” Tony teases as he enters the room. It’s not what he quite expects though he’s not sure what he expected in the first place. It’s a large room with a private bathroom attached far off to the side. A large queen bed is pushed into the corner with a marble bedside table next to it. An empty desk and overflowing bookshelf adorns the other side of the room and Tony spies a few pictures with young (Y/N) them strewn about in the form of frames and polaroids. 

“It’s a bit bland.” (Y/N) admits, placing her things by the closet. “I’ve always been really bad at decorating.”

“That’s why you just hire others to do it for you.” Tony jokes, walking over to the bed. “Is it under here?”

“Yeah, you just kinda pull it out--there you go!” The dusty old thing creaks as Tony pulls it out and soon enough, a twin bed has been pulled out from underneath the queen. Rose walks in and whistles at the sight.

“I haven’t seen that thing in years. I’m surprised Mom and Dad even kept it.” (Y/N) says, taking the sheets from Roses arms. The doorbell rings in the distance and Tony hears Rose squeal happily.

“That’s them!” She announces before leaving the room.

“Them?” Tony asks even though (Y/N) looks just as confused as he does. She shrugs before going to follow her sister. Tony does the same and from the hallway, he sees two tufts of hair coming in to shelter themselves from the now heavily falling snow. Rose tackles the girl immediately and Tony watches as they share a small sweet kiss. That must be Lexi, but who is that other guy who is also there?

“Connor?” (Y/N) asks loudly, entirely surprised. The tall and light haired young man beams at (Y/N)’s voice, too brightly for Tony’s liking.

“(Y/N)!” The one named Connor yells, running over to wrap (Y/N) up in his arms. Tony’s eyebrows shoot up at the way she laughs brilliantly, hugging the man back.

“What are you doing here?” (Y/N) asks once he lets her down, fingers tucking back strands of hair. 

“Uh, my parents are in Hawaii so your mom invited me over.” Connor answers. He takes a step back and looks (Y/N) up and down with no shame, causing Tony’s blood to heat up. “You look amazing, holy shit. New York is treating you well.”

(Y/N) doesn’t respond to that, only smiling and turning herself to Tony’s direction. He walks over on cue, feeling himself puff up at the presence of another male. “Connor, this is Tony.” (Y/N) introduces, gesturing to him. 

“Stark. Of Stark Industries.” Tony completes.

“And Tony, this is Connor. He’s an old childhood friend, his family lives a little bit down the road.”

“Oh wow, I didn’t realize a superhero was coming to dinner.” Connor says, eyebrows raised in admiration. “A pleasure to meet you, sir. Thank you for all you’ve done.”

“Anything for the people.” Tony says humbly. Before they can make any more conversation Connor is turning to (Y/N), asking her how she’s been and what she’s doing now. 

Tony has seen this situation a million times before. Tony watches as they all head into the living room to wait for dinner and it’s so so obvious that this Connor kid is in love with (Y/N). The young man stands close to her, closer than he really should and plops himself right beside her on the large couch. He gets her a drink, picks a stray piece of string off of her sweater and laughs a little too loudly. Does she know? Tony’s not sure. 

Tony feels intimidated, which is stupid for many reasons. One, he’s not here as (Y/N)’s boyfriend or love interest (he’s not even sure who he’s here as) and two he’s an established businessman and superhero with enough charm to choke Don Juan if he so pleases. There’s no logical reason for Tony to be intimidated by some fresh out of the womb guest. 

But Connor is young and, Tony can’t help but think, much more appropriate for (Y/N) when it comes to romance. They went to college together, her majoring in biology/psychology and him in filmmaking.  They also grew up together from what Tony can tell from their conversation, filled with nostalgia and reminiscence. Tony doesn’t take a part of that conversation, instead choosing to talk with George who is very interested in where Tony got that whiskey.

It’s a pleasant dinner. Jules makes a slightly dry turkey and vegetarian stuffing (for Rose and Lexi who are on a health kick) but Tony takes a second plate anyways. It’s so boisterous the way they talk to each other, laughing and teasing. It’s so different than the Thanksgivings that Tony’s had to shoulder through. He feels so out of place but (Y/N) brings him into the conversation, ropes him in so he has to speak about his latest technological advancements and Bruces lab work. It’s nice, actually, to have people genuinely interested in what he likes and what he wants. 

Before Tony knows it, dinner is over. He’s got a copious amount of pumpkin pie in his stomach as he sits on the far end of a couch, watching the flames crackle and eat up the dry wood in the fireplace. The cushion next to him dips slightly and when he looks over it’s (Y/N), holding out a cup of tea for him.

“Hey, did you like dinner?” She asks as he takes her offering. “You can be honest.”

“All I’m going to say is that I’ve never had turkey like your mothers.” Tony answers semi-what honestly. When she laughs, Tony feels proud. He likes making her laugh.

“Sorry if I’m acting weird.” (Y/N) suddenly says, looking nervous. “Unprofessional, or anything. I’m just really happy to be home, you know? I don’t get to see family often with them living so far away.”

“I understand.” Tony says, comforting her. “Happiness is a good look on you. Much better than that pinched face you always seem to have.”

(Y/N) laughs and tucks her legs up, the action making her lean towards him for just a moment. The firelight plays off of her features, making her look soft and warm. Tony feels that damn affection swell up inside him again and all he wants to do is drown in it. That’s until Connor walks into the room and smiles at her all lovestruck and sweet. Tony feels his dinner almost come up.

“I really should not have had that last slice of pie.” Connor admits, chuckling as he walks over to (Y/N). He sits on the couch next to her and Tony visibly rolls his eyes. Rose and Lexi were occupying the other couch but the two armchairs are free. This kid might as well have gotten a megaphone and screamed in (Y/N)’s ears how much he loves her. 

“Yeah, Tony loved the pie too.” (Y/N) says, turning to Tony. “You guys have a weird amount of stuff in common.” 

“Like what?” Tony asks, curious as to what (Y/N) thinks he has in common with an actual baby. 

“I know you both like ACDC.” (Y/N) points out.

“Oh my god, yeah. Connor you had, like, a shrine in high school.” Rose remembers. “It was totally weird.”

“Ah yeah, I’m a big fan.” Connor admits. “I listen to their best stuff all the time.

“You’re (Y/N)’s age? You weren’t even a sperm when they had their best stuff coming out.” Tony points out. Rose on the other side of the room lets out a snort that she pitifully tries to hide in her girlfriends arm. 

“You both went to MIT though.” (Y/N) continues, ignoring the comment.

“Yes, I got my masters there.” Connor boasts proudly.

“In what?” Tony inquires.

“Comparative media studies at first but also in media arts and sciences.” Connor answers. 

“I got my doctorates there.” Tony says casually, peering over to Connor over the lip of his tea. “Just a few. Physics, mechanical engineering and electrical engineering. Small stuff.” Rose’s little  _ daaaamnn  _ in the corner makes Tony become engorged with pride.    
“Wow, that’s uh, amazing.” Connor nervously laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as he backs up on the couch, distancing himself from (Y/N). “I could never do all that. (Y/N)’s always been the smart one between us.”   
“God, you’re really in love with her, aren’t you kid?” Shit. Tony’s said the words before he can stop himself and regrets it instantly. In the silence, Connor goes bright red and Rose practically chokes on her own spit, causing her girlfriend to pound on her back.

“You know, Mr. Stark, this is why I think you’re cool.” Rose says, half laughing and half coughing. “You’ve said what I’ve been wanting to say for ten years just like  _ that _ .” She emphasizes the word with a snap of her fingers and continues to cackle. 

“Rose!” (Y/N) chastises, glaring at her sister. The glare is turned on Tony and he gives an apologetic look. When she turns back to Connor he’s already standing up, heading for the door. “Connor--”

“He’s right.” The man admits, turning around just slightly. “I wasn’t really ever going to tell you but uh, he’s right. And I think I’m going to leave now.” He practically runs out of the room and Tony wants to go apologize but Rose is already up, following him.

“I got it, don’t worry.” She says, pulling her girlfriend along. “Lexi, if we let him watch us make out maybe he’ll feel better.”

“Jesus, Tony!” (Y/N) yells, standing up. Shame flushes through him, something he hasn’t felt outright in a long time. 

“It slipped out. I’m sorry. Honest to god, it was a mistake.” Tony tries to say, placing his tea down. 

“You can’t just say things like that.” She seethes. “People have  _ feelings _ , Tony.”

“I know, I know. He was just so obvious and--”

“That doesn’t give you the  _ right _ . I know he’s in love with me but he’s a family friend Tony!” (Y/N) sighs and shakes her head, turning to walk away from him. He goes to follow her to say something, anything but George is there to stop him.

“Don’t. You need to give her time to cool off.” George explains.

“I didn’t mean to hurt the kid’s feelings.” Tony says lamely. 

“You didn’t hurt his feelings, he just hates being reminded that he’s in love with someone who doesn’t love him back. Come on, take a seat with me.” George plops himself down on one of the armchairs and Tony follows in suit even though he really just wants to go to (Y/N)’s side. A moment later Rose reappears, hands on her hips.

“Well, Lexi is driving Connor home. Way to go, Mr. Stark.” Rose snickers, finding her own spot on the couch.

“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to ruin Thanksgiving.” Tony grumbles.

“It’s fiiiine. Connor’s been in love with (Y/N) since he was like 15.” Rose says nonchalantly. “She rejected him back then and it seems he just can’t get over her.”

“My sugarcube isn’t easy to get over.” George proudly brags. “She’s gold among dirt.”

“Thanks Daddy.” Rose sarcastically says, feigning offense.

“Just give her some time.” George pats Tony’s shoulder good naturedly “She’s gonna mope in her room till bedtime but it’ll give her time to think things over and she’ll realize you meant no harm.”

Guilt eats at Tony but he does his best to wait. Jules brings out the old photobook and he spends the next hour or so sipping the cold tea (Y/N) made him and laughing at Rose’s endearing stories. He really didn’t mean to be a dick. Well, he meant to be a little bit of a dick but not that much of a dick. He was just so…..jealous. Right. That’s the word. He was jealous, which is ridiculous because it’s obvious now that (Y/N) doesn’t like Connor like that one bit (Tony also isn’t her goddamn boyfriend which he can’t seem to remember). She was just sparing his feelings, which is exactly what Tony should have done.

When the moon is high in the sky, everyone bids their goodnights. Jules presses a kiss to his cheek and he promises to send George one of his favorite cigars. Before he knows it, Tony stands in front of (Y/N)’s door, reaching up to knock. It’s light but it’s loud enough for her to hear because after a moment, she opens it. She’s dressed in her pajamas now, tiger printed flannel pants and an oversized black shirt. Her hair that was up is now flowing around her face, framing it nicely in a way Tony rarely gets to see. Her face is grim and her hand grips the door so tight her knuckles are white.

“I’m sorry.” Tony says, leaning against the doorway. “I was a dick. Granted, he was a little bit of a dick too  _ but-- _ ” he adds just as (Y/N) opens her mouth to speak. “I will send him an apology. He’s young. He gets to be a dick. I’m a big boy with big boy pants, I should have behaved better.”

Her lips a pressed together tightly as she looks at him and for a moment Tony is scared that she’s going to be mad at him forever. Then, she walks away and allows the door to swing open. When he makes his way in, she’s already climbing into bed, picking up a tablet to place on her lap as she sits. The trundle bed is made up, sheets and blankets neatly folded for him. They don’t speak as Tony goes to the bathroom and changes into his own sleeping clothes. 

He feels nervous for some reason. One, he knows that he’s going to stay up a majority of the night anyways (insomniac, remember?) and two, even though sleeping with a woman in the room isn’t necessarily new, sleeping with his doctor in the room is. Sighing Tony turns on the faucet to wash his face and brush his teeth, taking more time than necessary. Exiting the bathroom Tony finds that the lights are off and only a soft lamp is on. He pads over to his bed and watches as the blue light of (Y/N)’s tablet lights up her face. He kneels on his bed and faces her, crossing his forearms on the bed by her legs. 

“Stop pouting and forgive me.” Tony orders light heartedly. It earns him one solid glare before she returns back to her electronic and keeps typing. “What are you writing over there? My death certificate.”

“You evaluation.” (Y/N) snaps, accentuating the statement with a few particularly hard taps on the glass screen. 

“What? Let me see.” Tony closes the gap between them and goes to reach for the tablet but she holds it up and away from him.

“I don’t think so. You don’t deserve that, Mr. Stark.” 

“Oh, we’re back to Mr. Stark now, are we?” 

“What you did is not okay.” (Y/N) says, placing her tablet aside and finally looking at him. He gulps, feeling like a small child being scolded by his mother.

“I know.” Tony admits quietly. “I’ll send him an apology fruit basket, where does he work?”

“Tony, that doesn’t solve anything. Why did you say that?”

“Well, he  _ is  _ in love with you and I just felt annoyed that he kept trying to hide it.” Tony sits back on his haunches and challenges (Y/N)) by looking at her straight in the face. “I’m the kind of man that gets what he wants. If I like a girl, I’m going after her. If I’m in love with someone, I’m going to tell them. I just hate people that dance around the subject and hope some movie-like situation will fall upon them and make things happen.”

“So you’re telling me that in Connor’s situation, you would confess to me?” (Y/N) asks him, voice full of disbelief. “You would risk a decade of friendship and family ties just to get your feelings off your chest?”

“Yes. I would. I would tell you that I love you the moment I realize I do.” 

The pause between them is tangible and Tony hears the words again through her ears. He wants to correct them, wants to make a joke and lessen the now intense tone of their conversation. He decides against it and allows his words to sink in. (Y/N) makes herself look away to focus on her now fidgeting hands. He watches as she swallows thickly, the slender of her neck moving.

“Right.” (Y/N) says. “I guess you didn’t mean any harm then.”

“Going to backspace all that shit you were typing about me then?” Tony jokes. He’s successful and the corner of her mouth lifts up into a smile.

“Nope, I’m going to keep it all.” She teases, going to pick it up. “Fury is going to get this very lengthy and very detailed email tomorrow morning about your behavior.”

“If you’re going to do that, send him a picture as well.” Tony poses on the bed like Rose from the Titanic and (Y/N) snorts. Shaking her head but smiling as well, she places the electronic aside to turn off the lamp, swathing the pair in darkness.

“Goodnight, Tony.”

“Goodnight, sugarcube.” 

“Ugh, shut up.”

  
  



	6. SIX

“Come here.” Tony looks at (Y/N) warily and wonders if he’s processed the words correctly. 

It’s just another night in the Avengers Tower where he can’t seem to sleep and she’s coincidentally still awake in the wee hours of the morning. They’ve spent a lot of nights like this lately, mostly because he’s pretty sure she’s stalking him and “bumping into him” every single time he rolls into the kitchen for another cup of coffee is not just a coincidence. He’s done the math; the probability never falls in her favor. Nevertheless, it’s not….wholly unpleasant. Having someone to talk to when he’d generally would just be alone in the lab twiddling his thumbs is kind of nice. Also--not that he would ever say this--(Y/N) is kind of clever and witty when they’re just joking around and she’s not analyzing him.  

“Honestly, (Y/N) if you want to cuddle just ask.” Tony flirts, smirking. (Y/N) rolls her eyes as she tucks her legs up to her side. She looks cute in leggings, fuzzy blue socks and cream sweater. She dresses more casually after she’s off the clock at five and Tony has to admit he likes it. 

“Mr. Stark, I am merely utilizing the fact that people tend to fall asleep better when they feel comfortable and safe. Physical touch is an important part of that for a lot of people. My hypothesis is that maybe you’re in that category so come here.” Tony snorts at that but she pats her lap for emphasis, showing that she’s actually serious.

Tony is circumspect. This is something she’s never done before. They’ve never exactly  _ touched  _ before either. He wants to examine her actions a little more, tear apart every little possible meaning that could be but then, the exhaustion hits him and the blaring clock that says 3:42 a.m blooms another headache behind his eyes to accompany the one by his temple. It’s been there all goddamn day as well as FRIDAYS constant nagging of “Tony, you have been running on 26 hours of no rest. You should go to sleep.” He needs to program that motherly tone out of her voice. 

Fuck it. (Y/N)’s thighs look soft and inviting.

Tony gets up from his safe side of the coffee table and meanders his way over to (Y/N). He plops down unceremoniously and he sees the corner of (Y/N)’s lips lift up. Shimmying into a comfortable position, Tony places his head on (Y/N)’s crazy comfy lap, legs hanging over the other side of the couch. His eyes shut as she places a hand on his head, scratching gently at his scalp. Her fingers are magical, Tony thinks, as they card their way through his hair, tugging periodically. She smells good, like fresh detergent and oranges.

“Feel sleepy yet?” Her soft voice asks him after a moment.

“Trying to get me into bed?” His pillow shakes as she laugh and the image of her shaking her head plays on the back of his eyelids. 

“Just here to help you, Tony.” (Y/N) murmurs. Help him. There are those words again. All she wants to help him and Tony’s never really had that before. Use him? Sure. Abuse him? Definitely. Hurt him? Steal from him? Leave him? Check, check, check. But helping him? He doesn’t know about that. A sharp pull at his scalp makes him hiss. The superhero cracks an eye open to glare up at  (Y/N). 

“What was that for?” Tony asks.

“You’re tensing up. Stop thinking, Tony.” She orders. Tony lets out a huffy breath and readjusts, sinking into her warmth. 

“You never call me Iron Man.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ever since you got here, you haven’t called me Iron Man.” He goes on to explain. “You call Natasha Black Widow, you call Steve Captain. I’ve heard you call Clint Hawkeye a few times too. Why don’t you call me Iron Man?” She pauses to think.

“I don’t know, actually. Maybe because those are their superior alter egos?” (Y/N) questions aloud, sorting through her own thoughts in her head. “Kinda like, whenever I see Natasha or Clint or even Dr. Banner, their amazing feats as Black Widow and Hawkeye and Hulk enter my head.”

“What, Iron Man isn’t amazing enough?” Tony teases, eyes opening to catch hers. “I haven’t done enough for the city for you?” 

“Well, I guess to me, you’re Tony Stark and that’s amazing enough.” 

If the arc reactor was still embedded into his chest, Tony is sure it would have short circuited with the way his heart beats. Her words are so genuine and critical to his biggest fears that he’s sure she’s been reading his mind. Instead of going down deeper into that rabbit hole of blistering emotions, Tony tosses it aside and moves on. 

“Is this, like, part of the guidebook?” Tony asks, eyes closing again. “Boosting my self esteem?” 

“What guidebook?”

“I don’t know, part of your  _ How-To-Save-Superheroes _ guidebook.”

“There’s no guidebook.” She says, smile in her voice. “No matter how much I read or study or memorize, there’s never going to be a guidebook on how to help people. All people are different.”

“Hm. Tell me more.”

She does. Tony listens as best as he can as (Y/N) talks psychology jargon in his ear and rubs as his temple with her index finger. Her voice is like warm lazy sunshine or a slow running river of honey, making him feel wiggly and content inside. He’s asleep before he knows it and it’s kind of bizarre because Tony doesn’t just fall asleep in a woman's lap. He never really “falls asleep” at all. Tony Stark prefers to work himself to the brink of exhaustion and allow the blackness of pseudo-death to take over his brain. 

So when Tony Stark wakes up a full freaking six hours later feeling strangely well rested and comfortable, he swears he’s in a dream. Or maybe he’s dead and he’s in heaven? He hasn’t felt like this, like he’s cared for and loved for the longest time. When Tony’s eyes finally flutter open and he pushes himself back into sitting position, the sun is glaring into his eyes unkindly. Squinting he looks around him and he finds (Y/N), half asleep with her cheek on her palm and crease between her eyebrows. She’s been like that all night? Doesn’t look comfortable. 

Tony stands up as quietly as he can to stretch. Like the old man he is, his spine cracks as it aligns itself. He turns back around and, still hazy with sleep, he reaches down to gather (Y/N) up in his arms. She groans a bit as he shifts her around, making sure not to drop her. She’s lighter than he thinks she would be but she’s warm and smells of sleep. 

“This is highly inappropriate, Mr. Stark.” A cheeky voice mumbles into his shoulder. Regardless, arms wrap around his neck and a warm forehead is pressed to his neck as he makes his way to where he knows are her living quarters. 

“I slept on your lap all night.” He says as if that cancels out her very true statement. Not to mention, the past few months have been anything but appropriate. Tony isn’t oblivious to the way they flirt and how differently she acts with the rest of the crew. 

She gives a small laugh as he hip checks the door into her bedroom. It suddenly hits him that he’s never been in here before. It’s always just been a straight beeline to her office to sit on her couch and be snarky for a few hours. Her professional office, her safe office where an ocean of wooden coffee table keeps them apart and he can’t touch her by accident slash on purpose. 

(Y/N)’s room is… bare. He doesn’t see many pictures of parents, friends or significant others. There’s one polaroid of her and a dark haired girl with the name  _ Rose  _ sprawled underneath in the white section. Her degrees are up on the walls as well in pretty matching metal frames. The tops of drawers and dressers are coated with a slowly settling coat of dusk, free from any knick knacks of sentimental value. Her closet door is ajar and Tony spies a magnitude of pencil skirts, blouses and jackets in muted hues. Even her bed is a clean and pristine shade of white, made so neatly he’s unsure if she’s ever even slept in it before. 

“Come on, let me down.” She orders him, patting his chest playfully. Tony does as she says, a hand naturally coming to rest on the small of her back. Sleep still has him in its clutches and he blames that for how bold he’s being. Generally, he frowns upon standing this close to her and being this touchy. She’s working for him-- _ with  _ him or something. Tony doesn’t go around cuddling Steve when he’s tired and if he even thinks about touching Natasha in a more than friendly manner either her or Clint will take him out before he realizes what's happening.

(Y/N)’s eyes are looking at him now, searching for a trace of whatever the hell he’s feeling. He doesn’t even know what it is, only that it’s freaking him out. Tony searches for a spot of her face to focus on so he can speak but his gaze lands on her lips and an inclination to kiss her promptly pops up. Images of her pressing her palms against his chest, feeling the erratic thump of his heart shocks him so much Tony flinches away from her, removing his touch.

“You should sleep.” Tony says thickly, taking a step back. 

“.....Yeah.” (Y/N) nods, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear as she looks away. She wraps herself up in her arms, fingers rubbing at her upper arms as if she’s cold. 

“You can take today off. I’m sorry I kept you up all night.” With that, he’s leaving. She doesn’t try to stop him, doesn’t say a single word to keep him there with her. They’re closer now and it’s unnerving to him. They spent the night together. Again. She told him about her schooling, some of her childhood. He slept in her  _ lap _ . When he makes it out of her suite and into the hallway, Tony clutches at the fabric of his t-shirt where his arc reactor used to be and struggles to take in a breathe.

“You alright there, Tony?” The voice makes him jump and Tony whips his head towards it’s direction. It’s Steve, holding a wrapped up plate of what looks like french toast, eggs and bacon. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” Tony answers, gulping down his anxiety. “Is that for me, cap?” Steve chuckles and shakes his head.

“I brought it for (Y/N). She missed breakfast this morning even though she was talking about how excited she was for french toast last night.” Steve explains happily. An ugly green emotion shoots through Stark at the thought of the pair being chummy.

“Ah, she actually doesn’t want to be bothered today.” Tony lies easily. “Something about not sleeping well.” Well, that’s not really a lie. It cancels out right?

“I’ll just stick this in the fridge for her then.” Steve smiles at Tony but his eyes flit to (Y/N)’s doorway. Tony can see the smart soldier connect the dots, probably wrong dots, but he lets the man connect them anyways. It’s deceitful of him, he knows but he can’t find it inside of him to correct Steve’s thinking. He’ll leave it. It can’t hurt….that much.

“Hey Steve, how about some french toast for your second favorite man in an metal suit? I like my bacon  _ extra  _ crispy.” 

 


	7. SEVEN

“(Y/N), you’ve asked me to inform you when Mr. Stark is practicing unhealthy habits.” You look up, expecting to see a face of some sort but there is none. You’ll never get used to FRIDAY talking to you and not having anything to attach the voice to. 

“Yes, what is he doing?” You ask.

“Mr. Stark has not slept in 15 hours and 22 minutes. Mr. Stark has also consumed nothing but black coffee and sugar for the past 12 hours and 8 minutes. Mr. Stark has not left his office for 6 hours and 42 minutes and his vitamin D levels are becoming precariously low.” You give a hum of dissatisfaction at the new information and nod your head to no one.

“Okay, thank you, FRIDAY. I’ll take care of it.” 

Shuffling your papers away, you get ready to go to the communal kitchen. There, you grab some water and make a simple sandwich for his lunch. It gets thrown in a paper bag along with an apple, cheese stick and bag of chips. It reminds you of the lunches you used to make for your little sister and sweet nostalgia makes you smile. That was when she was a child and here you are, making lunch for a child yet again. 

FRIDAY’s words ring true when you walk into Tony’s office and there he is, huddled over a mess of papers that puts a shame to yours. He’s wearing that henley that you like so much (but will never tell him) with the sleeves cuffed up to his elbows. He doesn’t even look up as he scribbles nonsense onto a sort of official form with a pen that is topped with something that looks suspiciously like Captain America’s shield.

“Never ask Loki for a pen.” Tony states blandly, acknowledging you presence. “Bastard will give you shit like this.” You chuckle and continue you walk over, plopping your elementary school lunch right on top of his work. He looks at it with confusion, hands raising up slightly and then finally up to you. He’s spent, you can tell. There are dark circles underneath his eyes, darker than usual and the exhaustion lines his face clearly, settling into the crinkles by his eyes. 

“You need to eat.” You explain before he can question. Tony scoffs and leans back in his chair.

“FRIDAY, you are a snitch and I do  _ not  _ appreciate this.” Tony scolds his AI.

“I am merely concerned for you well being, sir.”

“Concerned I won’t fix that glitch in your temperature control system, more like.” Tony grumbles, picking up your gift and plopped it down to the side to return to his work.

“Tony.” You chastise, returning the bag to it’s place.

“Not today, (Y/N). My new but still useless personal assistant has managed to fuck up another deal and I have to fix it.” 

“Tony.”

Instead of answering picks up a piece of paper with too much writing on it for you to comprehend and squints at it. “How? How does one mess up this bad? This is ridiculous.” 

“Tony.”

“I should really fire her, you know but what if I get another incompetent one? It’s so hard to find a personal assistant nowadays. It took Happy a month to find this one.” Annoyed, you reach over and pluck it out of his hands to hold it out of his reach. He gives a childish “Hey!” before you give him a stern look.

“Eat, Tony.” You order. “Or do I have to feed you?” The smirk that comes across his face is debaucherous and you roll your eyes at him. You place a hand on your hips and give him an expectant look.

“You get kinkier as the days go on, Dr. (L/N).” Tony comments lecherously. 

“Oh for goodness sakes.” You grouse, placing the paper back on Tony’s desk. You make your way around it as you grab the paper bag and open up it’s contents. The first thing your hands grasp is an apple that you hadn’t even bothered to wash for him, now that you think about it.

Once you’re on his side of the desk you perch yourself on the wood to his left. He opens his mouth to make some witty comment but you shove the apple into his face before he can. Tony gives an adorable little strangled laugh as you hear the sound of his teeth crunch into the fruit. Smug, you release the apple and keep an eye on him as he takes a big bite. The juice drips from the corner of his lips and his pink tongues comes out to swipe it away. The image makes your breath hitch and you wrench your eyes away. You hope that Tony didn’t catch you staring but by the way he’s looking at you, locked on, it’s too late. You’re caught.

He smiles and continues to crunch on his apple, eyes on you. You clear your throat and flatten out the cotton of your skirt. You shift and cross one leg over the other to try and alleviate how the intensity of his gaze makes you feel, like he wants you eat you up and you would let him. You focus returns to your skirt. 

It’s a bright red today, a color you don’t usually go for but have been finding yourself gravitating towards. You nabbed it right before checking out because it reminds you of a certain avenger and no one ever seems to wear his colors. The size is a bit too small so it’s a bit tighter and shorter than you usually go for as well. It stops a little bit above the knee and the fabric is thin enough so that the outline of your garter belt is obvious. You tend to wear this style more than the other because sitting on them for a long time makes the back of her upper thigh itch. 

“Is this new?” Tony asks you softly, hand coming out to finger the fabric. He bites into the apple again, munching obediently as he toys with the skirt. 

“Mhm.” You don’t quite trust your voice to reply with a full sentence. 

“I like it.” 

You should have ran. At that very moment with him saying that very line,  _ touching  _ you,  you should have hopped off his desk, walked out and sent a letter to Fury about how very inappropriate Tony has been with you (and you with him if you’re going to be entirely honest). You know all this and the logical side, the professional and scholarly side of you is screaming about how you need to get out of this room. But your body? Your body has a different idea and instead roots you there like a century old tree. 

Tony’s hand blooms on your leg, fingertips pressed into your stocking and thumb swiping underneath the skirt. The miniscule layer of sheer nude fabric is the only thing that is shields you from him and the more seconds that tick by with his hand there, the more you swear the fabric starts to sear. It’s almost like he can melt it away with just his touch and such a large part of you wants him to. An enormous part of you wants Tony to clear his desk, push you down and just kiss you. Bravery allows you to look up into his face and you find him already looking at yours, eyes burning with what you can only assume is lust. 

“Hey, Stark!” 

The manly voice makes you jump and turn your body to the door. When you spy Clint walking in already armed with his gear, your heart lurches in your chest. That can only mean one thing. They’ve left for a few small missions before but the last one, Tony came back with a bruised rib and Natasha with a gnarly gash on her arm. That was enough to push you into mother hen mode for a whole week. Feeling your nervousness, Tony’s hand slides down from your knee to your shin, holding your leg in place and squeezing slightly. At this angle, Clint can’t see how Tony is gripping you and you’re grateful. If Clint knows, then Natasha knows and if Natasha knows, Natasha  _ will  _ grill you later on.

“What is it?” Tony asks, having some more of his apple after.

“We have a situation downtown. There’s a new mutant who is freaking out about his powers. Already burnt down a whole building.” Clint answers. “Natasha and Steve are already one their way.” 

“Alright, get going first. I’ll meet you there.” Clint gives you a small smile before he turns and runs off. You take the opportunity to get yourself down from Tony’s desk and put a safe distance between you both.

“Eat your cheese stick before you go.” You order in a motherly tone, reaching into the brown paper bag to get it before him. You hold it out as he stands and he takes it from you, fingertips brushing yours. Worry washes through your system and you can’t help the words that come next. “And be safe. Come home.”

Come home. 

“Be careful, (Y/N), someone might think you care about me.” Tony teases as he walks out into the main floor of his home. You follow him, getting ready to leave yourself but allow him to see the roll of your eyes. You pause at the exit, turning back to watch him call his suit over. It’s beautiful to watch, really, as he transforms from Tony Stark to Iron Man. He turns one last time to see you and you give him a bit of a smile, waving with your hand. 

You watch him fly off into the distance, feeling like a wife that is letting her husband go off to war. You’re sure it’s nothing that he can’t handle. Natasha, Clint and Steve will be there as well and if anyone can handle anything it’s them as a group. However, you agonize over his safety in a way that you never thought you would. They’re superheroes, for goodness sakes. They’ve done this a dozen times over, they’ve saved the world how many times at this point? Knowing all this, you still fret. You return to your office but can’t seem to get any work done so you sit in your living room and ask FRIDAY for an update.

“The mutant in question seems to be in emotional distress. Mr. Stark is trying to confront him.” FRIDAY inform you. “The extent of his powers seem to be combustion.”

“Can you pull up surveillance?” You ask her, tucking your legs up to your side. 

FRIDAY complies and your tv screen flickers to life. Grainy images of downtown emerge from the blackness and the screen splits into three. One angle shows Steve pushing up a piece of broken building so first responders can escape and another shows Natasha helping a small child out of a turned over car. You find the section with Tony and you see him standing in front of a young man holding a handgun, pointed straight at him. That must be the mutant in question. The building behind him is scorched, looking like a marshmallow that has been placed over a bonfire for too long.

He looks young, younger than your sister so probably no older than eighteen or nineteen. He doesn’t look dangerous, just really really scared. His clothes are torn and scorched, shoes gone. The floor around him lights up with every step, the grass burning like kindling. Confusion, fear, anger; these are probably all the emotions he is going through. You never had to go through that discovering-your-powers phase that your biological parents told you that you would. You stayed normal. No powers, no realizations, nothing out of the ordinary. 

“No sound?” You ask FRIDAY, you eyes squinting so you can try and read that boys lips. 

“No but I can put in inferred closed captioning if you would like.”

“Please.” FRIDAY’s system starts to type out what she infers the boy is saying by the way it’s lip move and after years of foreign films, reading subtitles is easy peasy.

“I killed her.” The boy says, hands shaking. He shakes his head, clutching at his hair with his free hand as Tony says something in return. “It’s my fault she’s dead, I killed her.” Your heart twinges at the words. 

Tony’s helmet retreats into his suit and you spot the scruff of his dark hair, wanting to scream at him to put it back on. A gun is being pointed at him for god sakes! FRIDAY pans to a surveillance camera showing Tony’s face before you can ask. You have never understood when people say the man is selfish because from what you’ve gleaned from the time you have been here is that he cares so damn much. Cares about others, about their safety and their desires. So much so that he doesn’t even take care of himself.

“Listen to me, Greg.” Tony says. “We’ve all made mistakes. We’ve all hurt people we didn’t mean to hurt.”

“I killed her, oh my god. I don’t deserve to live, I don’t deserve to live!” Greg yells. He’s crying, you think. His face is contorted and he keeps shaking his head, muttering too fast for FRIDAY to comprehend during a live feed. 

“Greg, I’ve killed too.” Tony admits, taking a step forward. “People have died because of me but I’ve taken responsibility. If you want to do the right thing, take responsibility.”   
“I didn’t mean to.” Greg says, biting his lip harshly. “She just--she made me so mad and I--”

“It’s okay.” Tony interrupts, taking another step. “I have a lot of friends, Greg, just like you. They can help you. We can help you.”

“I don’t need help!” Greg yells. Suddenly, the gun that he was pointing at Tony is pointed at his own head. You gasp in your seat, fingers tightening on the armchair.

“Don’t do this, Greg.” Tony warns. “Come on, kid, we can get through this. I know this woman, her name is (Y/N) and she can help. She’s helped me, she can help you, Greg. Put the gun down.”

“I don’t care. I don’t deserve to live. I killed her.” The poor child cries, stepping back from Tony. “I don’t deserve to be helped.”

You don’t need to hear the gunshot for it to break your heart. 

Your vision burns as you cry for a child that never got to recover, you cry for Tony. The words the young man spoke are reminiscent to your very first session with him at two in the morning. There is a lot of Tony in that boy, Greg and you know, god you know, this is going to blow open a gate that you’re almost not ready to handle.

You’re a professional though, so you brush your tears away and force yourself to look into the screen. Tony is kneeling in front of the corpse, head hung. The gun is limp in Gregs hand and Tony grabs it, throwing it viciously towards the still embering building. Cops come into the scene as well as Natasha, Clint and Steve. You see Steve try to say something, probably to let Tony know it’s not his fault but Tony is taking off before anyone can talk to him. You expected that but you hope that instead of drowning himself in his sorrows, he’ll come to you. If he doesn’t come to you, you hope that he’ll at least go to a friend. 

You wait in the living room for the rest of the crew to return. You envelope Natasha in a hug when she walks through and it takes her a little bit to hug you back, but she does. You ask about the baby and she assures you the little one is fine. Steve accepts your hug but excuses himself quickly after. Even Clint gives you a small smile as he takes Natasha to their room, saying she needs her rest. 

Tony doesn’t come back quite yet. You wait in the living room till dinner time, ordering chinese food just in case he’s hungry. You eat your cold sesame chicken until the clock hits eight and FRIDAY informs you that he might not becoming home for a long time. You retire to your bedroom and flop onto the bed, sighing. You want to cry but you’re all cried out. So much of you just wants to help Tony, but the only way you know how to help is to be there. How can you be there when he doesn’t want to be here? You wish he were here.

You want to hold him. You want to wipe away his tears. You want to travel back in time and make sure people treat Tony Stark  _ right  _ because that’s what he deserves. He deserves to be loved, and loved so so much. He deserves to be acknowledged and cared for. He deserves someone to be there for him, to let him know he’s okay. You want to be that someone so bad, which is so wrong because you’re his  _ doctor  _ and he’s your  _ patient  _ but a huge part of your can’t seem to care. You want to be there for him. 

You’re falling asleep as you’re laying there when suddenly, you hear the door of your suite opening. Confused, you sit up but lean your body to look through your doorway. It’s Tony. He’s making his way towards your bedroom with his head down, feet dragging.

“Hey.” You say softly as he makes his way over to your room. You almost go to stand but you stay on your bed, waiting for him to say something. He looks...broken. He’s still in the same clothes and surprisingly, you don’t smell a single drop of liquor on him. You’re proud. You feel warm and proud. 

“Hi.” Tony replies, stopping at your doorway. He pauses at your threshold and his eyes travel to yours, bloodshot and tired.

“I saw what happened.” You let him know. “I’m so sorry.”   
“Just another kid I couldn't save.” Tony murmurs dejectedly. He sighs and presses his back against the doorway, sliding down until his butt hits the floor. His knees come up so he can rest his elbows on it and place his head in his hands. His pain makes you want to fucking sob but that’s not your job. You stand from your bed and walk over to the doorway, kneeling down in front of him.

“You need to sleep.” You say softly. 

“I don’t think I can.” Tony admits, his voice muffled. 

“It’s been over 24 hours since you’ve slept, Tony.” You inform him. 

“He shot himself. Blew his fucking brains out, right there. I tried to get him to come here, I told him about you.” Tony croaks, finally looking up. He looks like he’s almost about to cry but he doesn’t and just keeps talking, laughter leaking into his voice. “I told him you could help him. Isn’t that fucking hilarious? (Y/N), I fucking couldn’t--”

“Stop.” You order, raising your voice. You want to cup his face, press his forehead against yours and tell him it’s okay. Instead, you say, “Come here.” You reach for him and take one of his hands, pulling him up to stand. It’s like lifting a sack of bricks but you heave him up anyways, taking him over to your bed. 

You climb onto your pillows first and he doesn’t even need any convincing to follow you onto the comforter. Your bodies fall into sync and return to the same position the last time he spent the night with you, arms curling around you back. His head falls into your lap, nose pressing into your stomach as he wraps himself around you. A hand falls onto his head, carding through his hair as the other rubs his shoulder.

“It wasn’t your fault, Tony.” You let him know. “It’s not your fault, okay?” 

He doesn’t answer but you feel his fingerprints press into your skin. He’s quiet but you feel the tears wetting your shirt, saturating it to the point that you feel it on your skin. He’s hurting and you want to take it all away but pain doesn’t work like that. He has to feel it, he has to get through it. He’ll be better after it, but even if he isn’t you’ll be here. You’ll be here for him. 

 


	8. EIGHT

You were living in the Avenger Tower, surrounded by  _ Avengers  _ and somehow, just somehow, you managed to get kidnapped. 

It’s not your fault, you keep telling yourself as you wriggle in your seat, trying to loosen the ropes around your wrists. It’s not like you’re trapped in the confines of the tower. Fury said that your safety is of the utmost importance so you didn’t think twice about leaving your floor late at night for a little cheeseburger run. Some little surveillance drone was probably tracking your every move anyways! Well...apparently not.

Plus, it was just a two block walk to the nearest fast food place. You were gonna be in and out, back and forth in under a half hour. You didn’t even bother with real pants, just throwing on a pair of sleeping shorts and old college sweater. Other days your healthier (or lazier) side would have kept you at home but your cravings were hitting you hard. They always came right before your period and you wanted a burger so bad. You could have a burger. You deserved a burger. Getting kidnapped?  _ That  _ you did not deserve.

For felons, they weren’t too bad. There’s three of them as far as you can tell; two that had manhandled you and the other that had driven. They had blindfolded you and chloroformed you before you could even catch a glimpse of any identifying features. But now, awake, you can see their faces clearly as well as your location. Hearing them talk, you’ve even managed to know them on first name basis. It seems that they all have high confidence that they’re not going to be caught. 

Or they’re going to kill you. One or the other.

Regarding the room you’re in, you’re pretty sure it’s the basement of some house with the way it’s built. The cement floor is cold enough to seep up through your socks and you wish they had let you kept your shoes. A dryer and washer are quiet behind you and a few creaky lights hang above all of your heads. It smells damp but not moldy and soon the goosebumps start to rise on the front of your thighs from the chill of the night. What’s strange is the television that they set up for you just a few feet away, consisting of nothing more than a bucket that the T.V is balanced upon and a mess of wires connecting to what you assume is a device that allows it to connect to the internet? It hasn’t turned on since you woke up so you’ve just ignored it. 

You’re relatively unscathed besides for the rope burns at your wrists and ankles but those may have been of your own doing. They’re all just sitting around at this point on the opposite side of the basement, not speaking much at all as they passed a carton of cigarettes back and forth, chain smoking. Two of them sit at a creaky wooden table as the last leans on the wall, completely unbothered by the cold. The last words they spoke to each other was a “She’s a doctor or somethin’?” and “Yeah.” and that was twenty minutes ago. In the beginning you had been too scared to talk, but now you’re just annoyed. 

“So, what’s going on?” You ask meekly, cursing how your voice shakes. They all turn their heads to you and you give them a tight lipped smile even though the fear courses through your veins like blood.

“You’re a hostage.” One of them answers quite obviously. He’s the one with darker skin and silky hair, tied in a low ponytail, called Ryan you think. You resist the urge to roll your eyes,

“For who?” You question further. 

“None of your business, doc.” The other one says, southern tang quite audible in his words. Rick? Dick? Something like that. “Just be quiet until our friend shows up.”

“Who’s your friend?” You inquire, automatically thinking he means his boss. “Does he have something against the Avengers? Or is it a personal vendetta against me?” 

“You ain’t that important, girlie.” The southern man says, laughing. 

“So what do you want with me?”

This seems to trigger something in the scary one. He’s the one that you haven’t pegged with a name yet, mostly because he doesn’t talk like the other two. He pushes himself off the wall and turns to look at you, dark blue eyes striking icy fear into your chest. Without looking away, the mystery man crushes the cigarette he was smoking just before onto the wall and drops it, the embers hissing when it makes contact with the damp floor. He walks over wordlessly to you, a sinister and bright smile on his lips as if something is pleasing him. Though you’re not looking at the other pair, you hear one of them sigh and say something suspiciously like “Now she’s gone and done it.” underneath his breath. Done what, you think. Asked questions? What did they expect? For you to shut up and sit there when they knocked you out and kidnapped you?

It’s the force of his fist through your gut that knocks not only the breath but the bravery out of you. It’s the sting of his hand across your cheek that brings tears to your eyes, somehow hurting more than the fist. You grit your teeth to avoid biting your tongue as he shoves you over, chair tilting dangerously backwards. Your head heads the concrete with full force and you feel the warm stickiness of blood seep through your hair. The world spins before your eyes as you struggle to breathe. The echoing footsteps you hear get more faint so you can only assume that he’s walking away but really he’s just walking around so he can stand by your head. For a moment, that’s just what he does as your hands going numb underneath the weight of the chair and yourself, blood staining the floor. Almost in slow motion you watch as he cocks his legs back and kicks full force to your stomach, bringing up bile and acid. Then he does it again. Again. Again. 

You just have to hold out. It’s probably been a few hours, so it’ll be just a few more before Natasha wakes up for her morning run. The rest of the Avengers won’t be far behind either, all early risers besides for maybe Bucky. At some point, when you don’t come down for breakfast or lunch, one of them will ask FRIDAY where you are and she will let them know that you left in the middle of the night and haven’t been back since. Tony is smart. He’ll connect the dots. They’ll come for you.

Won’t they? 

  
  


“Where’s (Y/N)?” Blonde boy wonder asks. Tony grunts, still half asleep as he reaches for his second cup of coffee this morning. It’s too bright outside with the seven a.m sun shining through the large windows.  Catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the chrome refrigerator, Tony can see the dark circles under his eyes becoming ever more prominent. He probably should have slept last night but he didn’t. Half of him wanted to knock on (Y/N)’s door, knowing she would have gladly kept him company but he wasn’t about to do that  _ again _ .

“Not sure, probably just out.” Natasha answers, grabbing her own morning coffee. “Sunday, right? It’s her day off.”

“I’ve made too many pancakes then.” Steve’s mouth slants in dissatisfaction as he slides two pancakes onto a new plate which he wanted to be for (Y/N). Bucky greedily takes them instead, smile cracking on his face as Steve speaks on. “She said she would join us this morning for breakfast.”

“You know what, she said she’d join me for a run too.” Natasha states, looking perplexed. “She’s doesn’t break her words usually.” 

“FRIDAY,” Tony starts lazily, walking over to the couch. “Do you know where the doc is this fine morning?” 

“(Y/N) made her departure last night at 1:32 A.M and has not yet returned.” FRIDAY answers quickly after running through the systems. 

“Not yet returned?” Tony repeats, sitting up a little bit straighter. The exhaustion of the night before is swept away by worry. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Mr. Stark, that (Y/N) made her departure last night at 1:32 A.M and has not yet returned.” Tony could have rolled his eyes at the sarcastic lilt in his AI’s voice if it wasn’t more the strange fear creeping up his throat. He shouldn’t have made her so much like JARVIS. 

“Yes, FRIDAY, but do you know where she went?” Natasha asks impatiently. 

“Her last internet searches were hours for the nearest fast food restaurant, if that helps. The nearest one is two blocks away.”

“She must have left for a midnight snack but why hasn’t she returned?” Steve wonders aloud. 

“Pull up the corresponding streets she would have traveled going there.” Tony orders, setting his coffee cup down and heading towards the blue lights that pop up in the living room. 

FRIDAY complies and Tony’s eyes scrutinize the footage, watching as she leaves the tower in freaking shorts and a sweater. He almost wants to yell at her; this is freaking Manhattan for gods sake. Men and people are pigs and won’t think twice about harming a pretty girl like her in more ways than one in the wee hours of the night. He grits his teeth and crosses his arms as the rest of the Avengers assemble behind him, eyes scanning the grainy videos. 

“That van, right there.” Steve points out, designating to the out-of-place looking vehicle that ominously turns the corner (Y/N) was walking. “Do vans usually go roaming around in the middle of the night?”

“License plate?” Tony asks FRIDAY, squinting at the horrible recording. The AI does a bit of zooming and sharpening but when the license plate of the car comes into view, it’s not letters or numbers. It’s a bunch of mismatched shapes and designs. 

“It is not a real license plate. Shall I run the make and model?”

“Yes, do it now.” Tony orders. He feels his excuse for a heart start to pound as he continues watching (Y/N) walk and when the car pulls up next to her, swiftly pulling her into it’s backseat Tony almost goes crazy. It’s when the cameras catch the fear in her eyes and the silent scream of her mouth that he explodes. 

His vision is red as he called for his suit. Natasha’s voice is an echo in his ears as he orders FRIDAY to find the location (Y/N) has been taken to. Emotions--worryhurtfright--strange and corrupt emotions take over his system for a girl he  _ barely  _ knows. Two months, that’s it, and here he is flying at 1000 miles an hour to the coordinates FRIDAY is saying into his ear. Two months of late nights and chinese food and snippets of her life that he practically has to beg for so why is he feeling like this? Why does he feel like he’s going to implode without her? If he doesn’t find her safe? If she’s hurt? 

She’s in Old Westbury, New York, not even an hours drive away. That’s where the coordinates take him. Flying above the home she’s supposedly trapped in, Tony asks FRIDAY to scan for thermal bodies. When he’s told that there is none, suspicion starts to grow. Tony lands softly, trying not to scorch the ground and he half expects an army waiting for him but there is  _ no one _ . Just a lone house on a lonely street, all with dark windows and nothing remarkable. The front lawn that Tony plants his feet is pristine, well watered and well kept. He looks around. All the homes look similar, with attached garages and no signs of being lived in by actual people. It’s strange and he feels eery, like something is definitely off.

“Who owns this place?” Tony asks FRIDAY.

“It’s a show house, sir.” 

“A what?”

“It is a display home that shows a version of a manufactured home or house in a subdivision. These newly built developments showcase the living space and features of the home that are available elsewhere. No one lives in these homes and their structural integrities are at best, subpar.”

“So what you’re saying to me, “ Tony starts as he reaches the front door. “is that no one lives here and I can blow away as many houses as I want?”

“If you are willing to pay the costs of renovation, then I suppose so, sir.” 

“Good.”

A blast from his right hand blows an oak door right off it’s handle. The wood splinters, flying about and clinking off of his suit. The lights are off and FRIDAY intuitively turns on the flashlights on his helmet, providing visibility. The fully furnished home is too perfect and Tony wants to mess it all up, mar it in some way. He wants to ruin it the way he first wanted to shred apart (Y/N)’s competent doctor facade, which he soon found out was more real than he thought it would be. 

Tony goes through the rooms. It’s not an extravagant home; clocks in at three bedrooms, two bathrooms, dining room, kitchen and living room. Attic is empty as well. It’s only when he’s making his way down the stairs to the basement that an eerie static and dimming light catches his attention. He powers up his weapons, ready to kill whoever is down there at a moments notice. Instead of being met with guns and glory, he finds an old television model on top of a wooden stand that crackles at the center of the room. A mess of wires and router box is placed on the floor beside it, connected to the house. He takes a step forward to analyze it but the resistance of a metal wire and a click stops him in his tracks.

For a moment Tony wonders if this is it. It’s a silly thought of course; he’s encased in a metal suit completely designed for his safety and lethality but no matter how many times he’s out in the field, Tony feels that vulnerability. So for a second after hearing the click of what might be a bomb, he wonders if this is it. He wonders if tonight is his last night, and if his last words to (Y/N) were going to be, “Goodnight, short stuff.” It’s not until her face flickers across the screen, looking tired and broken that Tony snaps out of his reverie.

“Looks like someone came to join us.” a voice off screen murmurs, causing (Y/N)’s eyes to travel up. She looks up, fully apprehensive at a tall figure that comes on screen. The quality is subpar at best but Tony is livid at the way she’s tied up. Her clothes are disheveled and they’ve taken away her shoes. A gnarly looking cut adorns her cheek, blood clotting over and crusting. 

“Excuse me?” (Y/N) says. The way her voice trembles makes Tony shiver. 

“Look there, darling, at the screen.” The words confirm his belief that this is live and for a moment he’s grateful to see his friend mostly unharmed. The way that her eyes suddenly lock on him, as if she can really really see him, also confirms that he’s being recorded.

“FRIDAY, can you trace where this is from?” Tony asks, stepping over the wire and closer to the screen. He holds his hands out, willing wires to come from his wrist to plug into the television. 

“It may take a little bit, sir. The technology is primitive.” FRIDAY replies as she works. 

“Do it fast.”

“Three minutes sir.”

“Faster.”

“So, Mr. Stark.” The voice off screen continues. “Are you good friends with our doctor here?”

“I don’t know if I would call us friends.” Tony answers, pretty sure there’s a mic somewhere to carry over his words. “Maybe a super nosy acquaintance who won’t leave me alone.”

“Well, Stark, I’m gonna kill her..” (Y/N) tenses up at that but does her best not to react. “Unless you answer a few questions for me tonight.”

“A life for a few answers?” Tony asks, exasperated. “Surely we can do better than that. You sure you don't want money? Fame? A spanky new Iron Man suit perhaps?” There’s a laugh and for a moment  (Y/N) looks confused.

“You’re funny, Mr. Stark. Luckily, I am in a playful mood tonight. Rick, can you come over here and be little miss (Y/N)’s playmate?”

“Sure thang, boss.”

There’s rustling of fabric and suddenly a man comes into view. Stark’s hand curls up in a fist as he watches the man crack his fingers and (Y/N)’s jaw twitch. She’s afraid. She knows what’s coming. Tony does too and it breaks his fuckin heart because this always happens. Everyone he knows, everyone he cares about, everyone he wants to protect; it always ends up like this. Them getting hurt because of him. Before the first blow lands though, he hears his AI speak.

“Sir, they’re next door to your right.” FRIDAY chimes in his ear. 

“Wait!” Tony exclaims, his words stopping the stranger from breaking  (Y/N)’s nose. Another voice comes into play.

“Tony, we’re in the area.” Natasha informs him.

“What’s the plan?” Clint asks. “Do we have orders to kill?”

“Let’s try to keep that as a last resort plan.” Captain America says full of justice and righteousness. 

“FRIDAY, send the coordinates to the rest of the crew.” Tony orders discreetly. He turns his intercom back on and addresses the enemy. “Alright, you have my attention. What are your questions?”

The next few minutes go by fast as they always do in a battle. Natasha bursts on screen just as he’s about to answer the first question, something about why he fired some person some time ago from some strange department that he’s cancelled, and Clint is letting arrows fly as if they’re fighting an army instead of three dudes in a basement. The red and blue of Cap’s shield is a blur in Tony’s eyes before his thrusters are bringing him out of the home, veering right. He goes through three floors and lands in the next house’s cement basement, bending his knee in the landing to reduce the force. 

When the dust clears, Tony can see the scene completely. Natasha’s got one of the henchmen in a leg lock, pulling his arm dangerously back and most likely dislocating his shoulder by the way he’s screaming. Clint has the other at arrow point on his knees, hand behind his back and snot all over his crying face. Even trusty Captain America is shoving a hysterical big-bad-boss man’s face into the ground as he holds his arms behind him. All he can focus on his (Y/N)’s body, still tied up to a chair that’s been tipped over. 

“Tony?” She asks him above all the noise. Her voice cracks as she starts to cry, horribly so with her chest heaving and face scrunching up. Tony is by her side in an instant, willing his mask to retract so he can  _ see  _ her, make sure she’s real and not just a hologram someone may have implanted in his suit. He does it so she can see him, so she knows that she’s safe. No need to fear, Iron Man is here. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay now.” Tony says, cutting her free from the restraints. He sees the way her blood dyes the rope red and a disgusting desire to murder the three that did this to her overwhelms him. 

He’s never felt this way before. The urge to kill has never been in him. To protect by maiming? Sure, he’s felt that with the rest of the Avengers, with Pepper, with civilians. But to kill, to destroy, to have this unbelievable fury that rises up within him like a bad case of heartburn and acid reflux--he’s never felt that before. Tony isn’t dumb though. He knows why. He knows that he’s probably not in love because it’s only been about three fucking months since they’ve met but he’s pretty sure that he’s somewhere in the middle or halfway  _ through  _ falling in love. With (Y/N). His therapist/friend/only person that has ever accepted him for him. Yup.

He’s fucked. 

 


	9. NINE

It took them a little bit, but you’re right. They got there. They’re here. Yet, when you saw Natasha, Clint and Steve busting in all their shield and arrow and femme fatale glory, all you could feel was a bit of disappointment that it’s not  _ Tony _ . It’s dumb, you know, but he’s the one you’ve been imagining all night to come and rescue you. Would have made sense  if it was Captain America or something (you know, the literal face of American justice) but to fight off the pain you’ve been thinking Tony. Funny Tony, clever Tony, drinks coffee and tea with you at four in the morning Tony.  _ Your  _ Tony that you can’t stop thinking about even in this disgusting basement.

When the ceiling caves in though and the force knocks you over you can’t help but be relieved. Who else is going to enter that dramatically? Not Thor, not Loki, only your Tony. You’re crying now and you’re sure you’re ugly as hell with all the blood and tears and cold sweats but Tony is in front of you. He’s cutting you free and you’re reaching for him, desperate to feel the warmth of another human being that’s  _ not  _ beating the shit out of you.

You’re not sure if it’s the worry or the exhaustion or the relief that brings your right hand up to Tony’s face, thumb sweeping over those ridiculous cheekbones. Your eyes scrunch closed, unable to handle the way he’s looking at you and you feel the tears stream down your dirty cheeks. It’s his hand on yours that makes you look at him again and before you can say  _ thank you oh my god you just saved my life thank you _ he moves his face to kiss your palm. The action is so casual, so quick and so effortless. It’s a gentle kiss, barely there and for a second you think you’re imagining things. It’s not out of the question considering you had just been kidnapped and smacked around and probably will suffer from PTSD after this whole event but the warmth of his breath is real. 

The gaze of his eyes is real. The way he continues to pull you to him, his armor unraveling so you can press your forehead to the crook of his neck is real. The way you cry completely unabashed as he sweeps you up, arms cradling you to bring you to safety--all that is real. It’s so real and so raw that it rips through you the way a river of lava decimates a small town in it’s path. You barely realize that it’s Natasha soon beside you, rubbing your arm and kissing the top of your head. You hardly register the concerned voice of Steve and Clint, asking you if you’re alright.

All you feel is Tony.

  
  


In the 16 hours that (Y/N) rests in her own personal infirmary bed at the Avengers Tower, Tony doesn’t leave her side. She wakes up a few times but the drugs that are pumping through her system to make her heal at an accelerated rate keeps her mostly asleep. Steve brings some food for him after the clock hits two p.m and Clint throws a blanket at him after the next five, claiming humans need to sleep at some point. He eats the food and tries to sleep but he can’t. Instead, Tony spends his time watching her sleeping figure, monitoring her vitals and being a general nuisance to the doctor that he demands come in every hour or so. She has no deadly injuries but has sustained multiple bruises, abdominal trauma and lacerations. Dehydration and slight starvation is on the list as well. It rots Tony from the inside out with guilt. 

“Hey.” 

Tony’s head snaps up at the croaky voice. (Y/N)’s awake now, blinking eyes focusing on him. He puts aside the computer on his lap that he’s been using to read up on the three criminals and gives (Y/N) a small smile. She smiles back, lips chapped and tries to sit up.

“Easy, tiger.” Tony murmurs, placing a hand on her shoulder to gently press her back down into lying position. “Doctors orders that you need to rest.”

“I’ve been resting for a whole day.” (Y/N) points out, pouting adorably. 

“Twenty four hours of bed rest, minimum.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, Stark.”

“I’m not. Doctors orders.”

“Okay, well, I’m a doctor and I’m ordering myself to sit up.” Tony can’t help the frown that takes over his face as (Y/N) stubbornly sits up, brushing back greasy hair from her forehead with an I.V pricked hand. “Ugh, I need a shower.”

“You need to be more careful leaving the tower at night.” Tony wanted his words to come out nonchalant but instead it just comes out stern. (Y/N) scoffs.

“I’ll do my very best, dad.” She says sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. Her father is definitely not something he wants her to see him as but he can’t deny that he’s acting very caring as he pours her some water and presses it into her hands.

“Drink.” Tony orders. She complies and Tony takes a seat in the armchair he had pulled over earlier in the day to be closer to her. A quiet settles over them when she finishes her glass and places it onto the bedside table. Tony wants to say something, anything really. Even a  _ Hey i may be kind of in love with you?Don’t freak out but the thought of you getting seriously hurt because of me makes me honestly want to implode  _ would do at this point. But (Y/N), being the emotionally stable and educated woman that she is, speaks first.

“Where are they?” She asks.

“The criminals? Oh, probably dead.” Tony jokes. “Bucky’s been interrogating them to see where they come from.”

“And? Anything crazy?”

“As far as we know, they’re acting alone. No connections to any companies or evil organizations. Just a few jaded ex-Stark employees.” Tony explains tiredly. There are so many of those. 

“It’s not your fault, Tony.” She murmurs, glancing over to him.

He wants to believe that,  _ desperately  _ wants to believe that. How can he though? When Tony looks over to her, all he can see is the cut on her face and exhaustion underneath her eyes. It reminds him constantly of the fact that she got hurt because of him, because of his team and her job. She’ll probably have to go to therapy after this before they can clear her to come back to work.  _ If  _ she comes back to work. He isn’t going to blame her if she quits. Who wants a job where the chance you get kidnapped is, well, anything more than zero? 

“I know.” Tony answers casually. “I wasn’t the one who kidnapped you and whisked you away to a creepy basement.”   
“Tony.” Her tone is reminiscent to his mothers, the one that she used when he fought with his dad about something that was totally his fault and he wanted to run away. Tony looks away from her, refusing to face the therapist spiel she’s about to unleash on him. He waits for it, propping his chin up on his fist to get comfortable. 

It doesn’t come. Instead, Tony hears the creak of the bed that makes him look up and suddenly, (Y/N) is making her way over to his chair. Even in a poor excuse of a white hospital gown, she looks beautiful. He stands to stop her but it’s only a few steps before she’s in front of him. Tony opens his mouth to chastise her (“What do you not understand about doctors orders?”) but then she takes his hand in hers and he freaking deflates. 

“You saved my life.” She says simply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Tony wants to disagree with that because really it was Natasha and Steve and Clint who did all the saving but something is clogging up his throat, preventing him from speaking. (Y/N) raises her face to look at him and in this close proximity he’s forced to look at her back. 

“Barely.” Tony manages to say.  She doesn’t miss a beat with her reply.

“Thank you.” She smiles at him and Tony can’t freaking breathe. Her hand squeezes his comfortingly and he’s probably going blue at this point. They’re so goddamn close and he just wants to lean down a kiss her, hold her, something to bring them closer but he  _ can’t  _ and--

“Knock knock!” A voice sing songs.

“Natasha!” Suddenly she’s gone and walking towards the door, yelping when her I.V get’s caught around the railing of her bed. Tony can’t help but laugh as he goes to untangle her so she can go leap into Natasha’s willing arms.

“Are you feeling okay,  _ zolotse?”  _ Natasha asks, using her favorite nickname. She wraps her arms around  (Y/N), hand on the back of her head to stroke her hair. 

“I’m sure she’s been fine with Tony being a mother hen these past few hours.” A voice answers jokingly. Tony watches as Steve walks in, a bouquet of flowers in hand and a smile bright on his face.

“Don’t start with me, dorito.” Tony says and the super soldiers laughs at the name. Another super soldier walks into the infirmary, smiling at  (Y/N) when he sees she's up and about.

“Heard somebody had a little incident.” Bucky says. “Sorry I wasn’t there to help out.”

“It’s okay, Tony was there.” (Y/N) answers, looking back over to him. 

“Oh, I guess Clint and I just stood there?” Natasha teases. 

“I wasn’t even present.” Steve goes on, shrugging. She laughs at that but winces when her ribs ache. Tony’s there soon enough, giving her a keen look that has her walking back to the bed, knowing how he worries.

“You’re all my heroes.” (Y/N) states, pulling blankets over her legs again. “Thank you.” 

“Focus on getting better.” Natasha orders. “And then I’m taking you to the training room so you can defend yourself better in the future.”

“Future?” (Y/N) shakes her head at that. Tony feels his heart start to palpitate when the possibility of her quitting becomes very real and-- “I am  _ not  _ getting kidnapped again. Quite frankly, I’m a bit offended that Tony didn’t have a little drone following me around to protect me from harm in the first place.” Tony can’t help but laugh and shake his head. 

“Don’t worry. I’m working on it.”

 


	10. TEN

Tony does in fact build a cute little drone to follow you around. It’s a round little hovering thing with a rotating camera and built in mics that picks up voices crystal for a two mile radius. It stays by your side whenever you leave the tower, staying a good distance away so everyone isn’t staring at you when you’re trying to do daily errands. Tony even programmed a personalized little A.I to keep you company for when you’re out and about without FRIDAY to help you. You nicknamed it BabyBot just for fun and Tony, much to his chagrin, programmed the robot to answer to said name. 

“BabyBot, please stay outside of this restaurant for an hour or so.” You say to the air, knowing you’re being heard. You pause and look up to the sky, searching for it amongst the afternoon chaos. The gray and silver robot is resting on top of a dim streetlight, it’s light blinking green to signal that it understands. The moment you enter the sandwich shop, a voice squeals your name. You smile at the familiar sound and squeal back when you spy you darling baby sister barreling towards you.

“(Y/N)!” 

“ROSE!” You reply with a matching enthusiasm. A blur of now dark hair and excited arms squeeze you tightly, vibrating like she’s already had too much caffeine.

“I feel like it’s been forever.” Rose whines, rocking you two back and forth.

“I know, I know.” When she steps back you smile at her, brushing back a piece of hair to tuck behind her ear. It’s amazing how much you love someone you’re not even blood related to.

“Come on, let’s eat.” Rose says, taking your hand and leading you to the table she’s already gotten. “I ordered you your fave sushi order.” Once you’ve both gotten settled and your food comes, that’s when the questions come at you.

“Sooo,” Rose starts, drenching her vegetarian cucumber roll in soy sauce. “I heard you got kidnapped?”

“Right, uh, don’t tell mom.” You order, almost laughing. “It’s fine. I wasn’t even there for a whole day and Tony came to save me.”

“Tonyy!” Rose exclaims, drawing out his name as she raises her eyebrows. “ _ Do _ tell me about Tony.”

“What about him? He’s one of my patients.” Rose rolls her eyes so hard you swear they would have popped out of her head if they weren’t attached to her brain.

“Oh please. He was totally jealous during Thanksgiving. That man has the hots for you.” A small smile emerges on your face from that statement.

“You think?” You ask her, feeling silly. You brush it off and shake your head. “It doesn’t even matter though. We work together.”

“Are you seriously telling me that if Tony freaking Stark confesses his love to you, you would tell him no?” Rose scoffs and shakes her head. “Absolutely not. Want to know why? Because you love him back.”

“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said, and I’m including that one time when you asked me if you could get a UTI in your ass.” You inform your baby sister. 

“You totally do! Okay well, you at least like him. I know when you like someone, (Y/N).” You take a deep breath in and do your best not to look at her, instead focusing your eyes on your fighting hand on the table. 

“Maybe.” You say, letting the feelings you’ve been trying to ignore surface. “Probably. Yeah, you’re right.” Rose squeals and reaches over to take ahold of your fingers.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you, sis.” She says, smiling brightly. “You’ve been out of the game for so long, I’m so glad you’re dating again--”

“Oh no, there will be no dating.” You deny, slipping your hand out of hers to take a long swig of your water. “I am not going to date him.”

“What? Why not? You both like each other!”

“I  _ work  _ with him, Rose.” You point out. “I’m his  _ doctor _ . Us dating is a complete violation of god knows how many oaths and laws.”

“But you like him. A  _ lot _ . Right?” You don’t want to confirm her words. If you do, it’s real and you have to admit that it’s real and that’s too much. You’re just going to sit on these feelings until you’ve done your job and then deal with them later and--

“Stop being scared.” Rose orders, interrupting your inner monologue. 

“Okay fine. I do.” You say a little too loudly for a restaurant. “I do, but nothing is going to happen.”

“Why not? And don’t say it’s because he’s your boss again because you fucked your T.A in college so I know you don’t care about that.”  

“It won’t work out.” You sigh and lean back in your chair, fingers gripping at the table. “Rose, he’s an Avenger. He’s richer than we could ever imagine and he has so many responsibilities. I can’t be another one of those. I can’t be something else he’s going to regret.”

“Do you remember when I was still in the closet?” Rose suddenly asks, putting down her chopsticks. “Do you remember when I had that huge crush on that girl and I was too scared to tell her?”

“Of course I remember that. It took you forever to get over her.”

“Yeah well, I don’t want that to happen to you.” Rose reaches over and takes your hand. “I want you to take the chance because I saw how Tony was looking at you.”

“...You really think he likes me?”

“To be honest I’m pretty sure he’s in love with you.” Rose casually says, now working on her sashimi. “But you don’t want to admit it so whatever.”

“That’s crazy, I’ve only known him since July.” You mention. 

“So? Love works in mysterious ways, sis. Tony Stark is in love with you and you love--oh I’m sorry,  _ like  _ him back.”  

If Rose is anything ,she is brutally honest. You know that, so even if you won’t admit your feelings to yourself, Rose is shoving them down your throat. They burn going down but you let it be. You let the acceptance sit in your stomach like acid as you finish your lunch and you let it scorch through as you kiss her goodbye. It stays in your body for the rest of the day, ever present and painful because even if Rose is right about you liking Tony, she is still 100% wrong about Tony liking you. 

  
  


“So, do you like (Y/N)?” Tony looks up from his blueprints to find Bruce giving him a wary side eye. They’ve been in the lab a few hours and the one thing he likes about Bruce is that the man doesn’t talk if necessary.

“I certainly don’t hate her anymore.” Tony answers, skirting around Bruce’s meaning. “Did kinda want to throw her off a skyscraper the first time we met though.”

“Come on, Tony. Do you  _ like  _ her?” Bruce puts down his tablet and walks closer to Tony, leaning casually on the edge of his desk.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Bruce.”

“Don’t make me say it, Tony, we’re not in high school. We’re grown ups.”

“Exactly. We’re grown ups.” Tony repeats, rolling away from his friend to grab a digital pen. “(Y/N) is a baby, and we’re grown ups. Even if I like her, t’s pedophilia--do you support pedophilia, Bruce?” With a roll of his eyes, Bruce takes the pen from Tonys hands.

“She likes you.” Bruce states plainly. “Everyone can tell. Everyone sees it. Hell, Thor has bet Clint five gold pieces that you’ll crack and kiss her before the end of the year.” 

“Gold pieces? They do realize that Midgard doesn’t take Asgardian money, right?” Tony snorts. 

“Whatever, that doesn’t matter. Are you going to tell her?” Bruce asks, twirling the pen in his hand. 

“There’s nothing to tell, Bruce. If you want to go talk about crushes go talk to Natasha or something. I’m sure one of the receptionists downstairs would love your attention.”

“Bullshit. You adore (Y/N).” Bruce continues to tease. “Do something about it.”

“If, and I said  _ if  _ I like (Y/N),” Tony starts, leaning back into his chair to look at Bruce. “There is no guarantee she likes me back. And I don’t really quite trust a team of mentally stunted assassins and gods to be able to understand (Y/N)’s emotions. You guys are making something out of nothing.” 

“You spend almost every night with her. She always says hi to your first. She always sits next to you. She laughs at all your dumb jokes. You’re always bringing her chinese food. She flips her hair around you, Jesus, Tony, must I go on?” Bruce grabs the digital blueprint that Tony is staring at and flings it to the otherside of the room, looking at his friend seriously. “You guys make each other happy. You should do something about it.”

“She’s my doctor, I’m her patient. There’s a million Hippocratic oaths she’d be breaking.”

“In a few weeks she won’t be your doctor anymore so no problem.”

“She’s  _ 27 _ , Bruce. I could be her father.”

“Love knows no boundaries, Tony.”

“She doesn’t want to date some old man.”

“You’re a literal superhero. I doubt she cares about your age.”

“I’ve only known her for six months, there’s no possible way I love her.”

“Oh so you love her now?”

“Shut up.” Tony flips Bruce off and the man merely laughs.

“Come on, Tony. Stop hiding behind a wall.” Bruce orders. “Go after her.”

“I said no.”

“Can you just admit you like her?”

“ _ No _ .”

“Fine, love her?”

“Bruce, I will tase you.” 

“I want you to be happy, Tony.” Bruce sighs and stands up to pat Tony on the shoulder. “After everything that has happened, you deserve at least that.” 

Bruce leaves Tony alone with his thoughts soon after. Sitting in his chair, Tony thrums a beat on the table as he thinks. Fine, he loves (Y/N). He’s done telling himself anything else considering apparently half the world already knows. That doesn’t mean he’s going to  _ do  _ anything about it. She deserves more than him, better than him. She doesn’t deserve some half broken superhero with a drinking problem and night terrors. Even if she can give him what he wants, he can’t give her what she deserves. It’ll only take time before she ends up like Pepper, tired of his antics.

“FRIDAY?” Tony asks, standing up to look for something to keep his hands busy.

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”   
“What do you know about human affection?”   
“I am merely artificial intelligence but I can derive emotions from basic vocal and bodily cues due to my database of knowledge.” 

“Run the past few months of footage from around the tower through that database for me.”

“Alright, sir, but may I ask what for?”   
“I need you to count how many instances dictate that (Y/N) has more than platonic feelings for any one of the Avengers.”

“Yes, sir. Give me a moment please.” A painful minute ticks by and Tony does his best to breathe. He finds an old glove meant to scale buildings and starts to mess with the wires, giving his body something to do physically. 

“I am ready, sir.”

“Hit me with the numbers.”

“In the past few months that (Y/N) has been in the Avengers tower, the numbers are as follows from least to most: 15 instances with Thor, 22 instances with Loki, 72 instances with Dr. Bruce Banner, 163 instances with Mr. James Barnes, 177 with Mr. Clint Barton, 201 instances with Mr. Steve Rogers, 255 with Mrs. Natasha Romanoff-Barton, and 3,583 instances with you, Mr. Stark.” Tony smirks at the ending.    
Well, the numbers don’t lie. 


	11. ELEVEN

It’s only when you see a sleek black box on your bed adorned with an equally black bow that you realize things are a little different than usual. Coming back from a new years dinner with some old college friends, all you wanted to do was lay down and sleep for eight hours. You love your old friends, really, you do, but they’re exhausting. They’re all loud and doing something new, getting pregnant or married or getting a new dog. Your exciting thing (working with the Avengers) isn’t something you can legally talk about so you had just sat for the past three hours listening to Bethany talk about her boyfriends pop up vegan mac n cheese restaurant. 

All you want to do is take a bath, slap on a face mask, moisturize and then go to bed. With this box in the way though, it seems that things are not going to go as planned. 

“FRIDAY, is this a bomb?” You ask, dropping your heavy briefcase and purse on the floor. 

“No, (Y/N), but I suggest you open it as soon as you can.” FRIDAY responds. Confused you walk over to it, kicking off your heels and kneel in front of the bed. A little white notecard is propped up neat next to the box and you go to read it.

_ A present  for you so be present tonight. - TS, your date  _

__ TS? Tony Stark? What is Tony doing, leaving boxes on your bed? And what the hell does he mean “be present”? Date? Sighing you place the note aside and reach for the bow, too tired to analyze the meaning of Tonys words. He’s been a little weird lately. He’s still as sarcastic and quippy as ever but it’s been...sweeter? No, that’s not that word. More charming. That’s it. He’s been charming, which is something he always is, but he’s charming you in particular. You can’t say you don’t like the attention, but that’s a dangerous road to go down.

Pulling at one of the edges, you release the ribbons. Thin white tissue paper crackles as you lift the lid and push it back to reveal shimmering gold fabric. Confused you go to touch it, wondering why Tony is sending you gold cloth. As you stand, you pick it up, shaking it to straighten out any wrinkles and in the light, it glistens.

“Oh my god.” You murmur, laying it out flat on top of your sheets. 

Tony’s given you a dress. A beautiful damn dress. It’s cocktail length made of mostly sheer flouncy material that makes you almost sure that you can’t wear any underwear with it. Throughout the whole thing beautiful gold beading and crystals are woven through, all the way up to the dainty straps that is meant to hold it up. The fluorescent light of your bedroom makes it twinkle like stars in a night sky. You don’t want to touch it, afraid you’d mar it in someway. Instead you stand there and stare at it, breath caught in your throat.

“(Y/N), the party starts at two hours at eight p.m.” FRIDAY says.

“What party?”   
“Mr. Starks annual New Years party.” 

“I’m invited?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark sent you this dress in hopes of you coming.” 

“I can’t accept this.” You tell her. “How much was this dress anyways?” A pause, and then FRIDAY spits out a number so large you can’t even freaking comprehend. 

“I reassure you that Mr. Stark means only good intentions with this gift, (Y/N).” FRIDAY says, trying to comfort you. “Your presence at his party will be more than enough thanks.”

“Oh my god.” You say again, falling to your knees in front of the dress. 

It’s so pretty and the extremely feminine and girly side of you wants to at least try it on. But it’s from Tony. It’s a gift from Tony. The two have you have been edging on what if’s and will-she-won’t-he’s ever since you’ve come back from your little trip to Old Westbury. It’s been a little strange since Thanksgiving, if you’re going to be honest. You feel like your in highschool, analyzing every time he touches you and looks your way. Not to mention, it doesn’t help that your conversation with Rose a few weeks back only confirmed the fact that you are, yes indeed, probably and most likely in love. With Tony Stark. 

A part of your mind thinks he loves you too.

But the idea is ridiculous because he’s an Avenger and you’re a plain old doctor. You both live on different ends of the spectrum, your lives having nothing in common except for this very tower you’re staying in. If he likes you, it’s probably not real. If it’s real, it’ll probably be temporary. Sure, that hurts your heart, breaks it actually, but you leave it be because after today you’re going home.

The evaluations are complete. Tony Stark is well on the way to recovery. Natasha Romanoff is learning about herself and her soon to be journey into motherhood. Dr. Banner has a dinner set up with Betty this upcoming January which he certainly frets about but is excited for. Loki has become steadfast friends with Barnes who is more than happy to accompany him on prank wars on Thor and Steve. Your job is done. You’ve done it. It’s time to go. You’re Nanny freaking McPhee. 

You haven’t told anyone yet of course. It’s hard. No one has a clue that you’ve already written up their papers or that you’ve ordered boxes to start your move. You don’t know how to tell them. You hope that you can come back someday, maybe see Natasha’s baby or have dinner with Bruce. Perhaps even spend the night watching a French movie and eating chinese food on Tony’s couch. 

So maybe, because you won’t have tomorrow, you can have tonight. 

Making up your mind, you stand up and grab a towel. The shower is scorching hot but it washes away the stressful dinner and relaxes the muscles that have been tensing up all day. Slipping on your dress, you’re not surprised that it fits you perfectly. Tony wouldn’t dare send you something that isn’t made just for you; he’s too much of a perfectionist. You spend more time on twisting up your hair and applying make up, more than you would usually. Your heart beats faster as the clock ticks towards eight p.m. 

You stand in front of the mirror when you’re done, smoothing out the fabric. You clean up well actually. It’s been a long time since you’ve really stepped up your game and put on anything that’s not a pair of slacks or pencil skirt. You don’t really know what kind of message it’ll send when Tony sees you in the dress he presented to you. Will he be happy? Is he testing you? Is this him confirming your feelings? He had written  _ your date. _ What does that even mean? Date as in friends? Date as in  _ date _ ?

“You look amazing.” 

You turn around to find the man in question smiling at you, eyes getting darker by the second as he takes in your figure. He looks so handsome, like always, and your heart pauses to take him in. He wears a simple suit, all black, button up and all but it’s tailored and cut for his figure. For a moment you feel shy, like he’s scrutinizing you instead of admiring you. You let a smile spread on your lips as you do a little spin for him in your spot. He whistles at that and you laugh, feeling undeniably happy.

“I can’t believe you bought me this.” You say to him. 

“I’m glad you decided to wear it.” Tony informs you. “You look amazing.”

“You already said that.”

“I mean it.” 

You’re rooted in your spot as he saunters over to you, heart beat thundering in your eyes. A hand reaches for yours and you find yourself reaching back, closing the distance between you. Tony looks into your eyes as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You wish he would kiss you instead and for a small moment you think he will. He doesn’t. You don’t make a move either, just waiting for his next cues. 

“The teams waiting for us.” Tony says softly, lowering your hand from his lips. 

“Okay.” You reply thickly. He holds out his arm for you to hold and you comply. You almost can’t walk. It’s things like this that he does that makes you think he loves you and it’s things like this that hurt you the most because you know that he doesn’t. 

Downstairs, the party is already in full swing. People you’ve never met before are dancing to the music, taking shots at the bar, eating the little _ hors d'oeuvre _ s that are being catered around. The furniture has been removed and some has been added, making the room you’ve spend so much time in these past six months unrecognizable. It’s loud and cramped but everyone seems to be having fun. Tony pulls you through a throng of people to a small group sitting by the bar, a group that you recognize as your friends.

“Oh my god!” Natasha screams when her eyes land on you. “(Y/N)!”

Barnes whistles and tries to get up from his chair only for Steve to clap a hand on his shoulder and drag him back down. “You look beautiful, (Y/N).” Steve compliments. “Truly.”

“Hot as hell.” Natasha corrects. “She looks hot as hell.” You beam at that and go to thank her when your thoughts are interrupted. 

“Gorgeous, love.” A voice next to you suddenly says. You turn to find Loki, eyes twinkling in a way you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if it’s the lighting but he looks a little red and a little disheveled, a state you’ve never seen Loki in before.

“Why thank you.” You answer giggling.

“So gorgeous, in fact, that I would like to ask you to dance.” Loki continues, reaching for you waist. He yanks you towards him and you fall forward, hand landing on his chest.

“Loki!” You exclaim shocked. His eyes stare right into yours, leaning down quickly for a kiss and--

“You must forgive him, Lady (Y/N). My little brother is intoxicated.” A muscular arm of a god interjects between you and Loki to shove him back. The force makes you teeter before gentler hands place themself on your waist to steady you.

“I can’t believe everyone is trying to steal my date.” Tony jokes, voice close to your ear. 

“Date?” Clint asks, coming into play. “Are my hearing aids on high enough, Natasha? Did Tony just say that?” 

“Yes, date.” Tony confirms stepping to your side, a hand still firmly on your waist. He looks to you and smiles, making your heart internally combust. 

“Well, that calls for a celebration.” Bruce announces. “Bartender, can we get shots for the table please? Your choice.”

“And one water!” Natasha demands, hand falling onto her growing belly. 

Before you know it, you have a shot of bourbon in your hand. Tony is holding one too and you’re happy he chose to pick it up. He’s learning his limits, learning when it’s okay to drink and when it’s being used as a coping mechanism. You’re so fucking proud and you want to cry. The drink burns as it goes down but the warmth of Tony beside you burns even more. He keeps looking at you like  _ that  _ and you want to simultaneously disappear and kiss him at the same time. You tell yourself, even as you start to feel the effects of alcohol, that you are not to kiss Tony Stark tonight. Enjoy his presence? Let him flirt with you? Flirt back maybe? Sure, yes, completely allowed. It’s your last night. It’s fine. 

So you drink and you laugh and you let your heart flutter when Tony brings you to the dance floor.  You hear your friends jeer and jest (Thor yelling about gold pieces as well?). You allow yourself to wrap your arms around his neck and pull you close, rocking to the thumping music from his speakers. Tony feels solid, warm, safe. He feels like everything you could ever want, better than anything you could have ever dreamed of. He looks happy. He laughs. He’s so much healthier than the man you met six months ago and you’re so damn grateful you’re leaving him better than he was before.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Tony asks you, pulling you off the dance floor and into a corner behind the speakers. You almost choke at the randomness of the question but muster the ability to lie.

“Nothing probably. Sleeping off this hangover?” You joke, just to remind yourself that you are indeed a little tipsy.

“I want to take you somewhere.” Tony says to you, face leaning in close so you can hear him. 

“Where?”

“Somewhere. It’ll be fun and I promise to--”   
“Tony?” 

You head turns to the direction of the feminine voice and you find Pepper Potts in all her beautiful blonde glory. She looks gorgeous, of course, and suddenly you feel like a notch on Tony’s bedpost. Here is the woman he was--is?-- in love with. The one that broke his heart and left him to do everything on his own. Tony takes a step back, away from you and you see his face wrench up with confusion and hurt and surprise, all at the same time. 

“Virginia.” Tony says darkly. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Then why did you send the invitation?”   
“It was out of courtesy, not actual want.” 

“Hi, I’m Dr. (L/N).” You interject before Tony can get any more hostile. You hold out a hand for her to shake and she does so politely, giving you a small smile.

“Are you Tony’s girlfriend?” Pepper suddenly asks you. The question throws you off because for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. The correct answer is no of course, you are definitely not Tony’s girlfriend so when your brain finally stop short circuiting you give a curt shake of your head. 

“Who is this?” Tony asks, chin jutting towards the man besides Pepper who has been standing there quietly.

“This is Anthony, my date.” Pepper exclaims. The man, handsome but artificially so, places a hand on the small of Peppers back to confirm her statement. Anthony smiles and goes to shake Tony’s hand but he scoffs, ignoring it.

“Really, Pepper?” Tony snaps, angry as hell. “You’re gonna bring a fucking date here?”

“Tony.” You warn, putting a hand on his arm. He shoves you off, shaking his head and walking away.

“He hasn’t changed.” Pepper murmurs, having the audacity to sound sad. Fury rises up inside you, burning like bile and you whip your head towards her.

“He  _ has _ ,” You correct, trying to stay composed. “and it’s no thanks to you.” 


	12. TWELVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is sex in this chapter. Skip it if you want! (Especially you young'uns)

You find the little engineer in his lab, of course. It takes you a little while with Natasha dragging you back to the bar and whatnot after she saw the whole ordeal with Pepper. It’s probably for the best; you should let him calm down a bit before you go to talk to him. Currently,  he’s tinkering with some sort of glove that’s strapped to his hand, all red and blue and silver wires. His drink, whisky, collects condensation at his side, dripping onto the counter and forming a ring. Tony doesn’t even look up when you take a step inside though you’re sure the whoosh of the doors alerts him of your presence. You walk over to him, feeling an ache in your chest at the way he looks so pained. 

He’s still in his handsome suit but his jacket is forgotten on the ground. The tie is there too, a lonely strip of dark blue fabric stark on the pale floor. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone to give you a little peek of his scar from where the arc reactor used to be. His messy but not really messy demeanor makes your heart kind of squeeze but you push that aside. You make a mental note that that’s been happening much too often lately but you’ll dissect it later. 

“Your party is still going on upstairs, Mr. Stark.” You say gently as you make your way over to him. Your heels click delicately on the floor, loud in the otherwise silence. He doesn’t even look up when you pause in front of him and place your clutch purse on his countertop, already littered with little pieces of mechanics and tools.  

“Not really mine.” He grumbles, reaching out for his drink. You reach out and take a hold of his wrist before he can, giving him a pointed look as your grip tightens just slightly. He doesn’t even acknowledge your look, choosing instead to close his eyes and give an annoyed sigh.

“Tony.” You say. “You’ve reached your limit tonight.” You’ve been watching him. Watching all the Avengers of course, but more so him and the others. He has a  _ limit _ . He knows his rules. 

“Well either I drink this drink or you drink this drink. No use in letting it go to waste.” He says, moving forward once again. You reach over your connected skin with your free hand and pick up the glass. In one fluid moment you down the whiskey, knocking your head back to try and alleviate the burn. You let out loud, dramatic exhale as you let go of his wrist and place the glass down beside you.

“Hah.” You say, a proud smile spreading on your lips. “I drank the drank.”

“What are you, buzzed?” Tony asks, smirking. He’s finally looking at you now and jesus, you want to jump him. He’s so handsome, all big brown eyes and dark luscious hair. The gray is barely noticeable unless you’re really paying attention, and you do, you always are.  You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the simmering loneliness that’s taken a hold of you lately but all you want to do is kiss him and melt in his embrace. Tony Stark is probably a magnificent kisser. Good with his hands too, you bet. 

“Natasha and Clint  _ may  _ or may not have had the whole team take a few lemon drop shots at the bar. And some jello shots. And some regular shots. Also, Thor bought some stuff from Asgard that was  _ really  _ good.” You say, pulling over a chair so you can sit in front of him. It takes a little jump up to get your whole body into the chair and you cross your legs as he chuckles. With a shake of his head he returns back to his work, the glove on his hand twitching every so often as you sit there and observe him. 

Gosh he’s pretty. It kinda makes you mad how  _ pretty  _ Tony Stark is. Why can’t you have those beautiful brown eyes? Or thick lashes? You’d probably kill for those cheekbones and curve of his lips if given the chance. It’s so unfair, why can’t you be that adorable? He’s so fit too, for a man his age. He’s not even that old but your dad is his age and the only thing your dad has is a beer pouch and slowly forming double chin. But, Tony, oh Lord, Tony is all sorts of toned and delicious and fit. 

“Why are you here?” Tony asks you softly, screwdriver messing around with a bunch of wires in the palm of the glove. You take in a quiet breath before you answer, making sure none of your real thoughts leak out of your mouth. 

“You were stalking off, couldn’t quite let you go alone.”

“You sure? Or is it because you saw me see Pepper with that idiot of a date and didn’t want me to come out here and drink myself to death?”

“Eh, maybe that too.” You say casually, trying to lessen the impact of Pepper Potts as much as you can. It derives a little smile from him and pleasure swells inside your chest. His smiles are rare, especially when they're caused by you.

“I’m fine, (Y/N).” Tony says finally. He pulls off the glove and places aside, throwing the screwdriver in that direction as well. “Really, I am. I don’t need you here to make sure I don’t kill myself or something.”

“Yeah right.” You scoff. “Don’t lie to me, Tony. The only thing you are is in need of a  _ hug _ .” 

He looks up and his eyes connect with yours. The words slipped out of your mouth before you could rethink their weight and for a moment you regret what you said. The last time you guys hugged had gotten a little out of hand. You had gotten too close, too intimate, and you  _ had  _ said that it’s not going to happen ever again. Why? Because it’s inappropriate, no matter how safe and warm and secure his arms made you feel, and how yours made him feel the same way in return. 

All the joking you two had just done flies out the window and is replaced with something a little, dare you say, sentimental? Tony Stark really does need a hug, a five hour long one accompanied with back rubs and head scratches too. You want to give it to him so bad because he deserves it. He does so much and he deserves a fucking  _ hug _ . 

Without even thinking you reach over and your fingertips brush across his cheek. His skin is surprisingly soft for a boy and you fleetingly wonder if he exfoliates. Tony’s eyelids flutter closed and he leans into your touch, breathing deeply. His eyebrows coming together as a barely recognizable emotion washes over him, warming him from the inside out. Comfort. That’s what this is. Tony Stark is so starved of comfort, emotionally and physically and you want to drown him in it. 

The man steps out of his chair and takes a step towards you, his thighs bumping into your knees. Your heart starts to pound as a hand comes to rest on the bare skin of the thigh that’s crossed over your other leg and the other falls to the arm of your chair, gripping tightly. He pauses there and his eyes stay on yours, waiting for you to make the move, whatever the move is. You want to kiss him. You always want to kiss him, halfway drunk or not. But you wonder, is this how it’s going to happen? After all these months of pining and yearning and wondering if he meant to do this or that, is this how it’s going to happen? 

Your already there hand cups his cheek, thumb brushing against his cheekbone. Electricity sparks where his skin touches yours and god he’s so close now you can smell the husky cologne he must have put on hours before. You’re unsure if you’re dreaming or not when he leans closer into you, breath mingling with yours dangerously. The space between you both seems to get hotter and soon your body is overheating, making you dizzy and lightheaded. 

“(Y/N)?” Tony says, an unspoken question lingering in the air. His hooded gaze flits from your lips to your eyes, brazen and bold. You know what he wants and you want it too. You think you’ve wanted this ever since you set eyes on him that day you first came to work with him. The desire in both of your systems simmers, threatening to boil and spill over the edge. 

“Yeah, Tony?” You murmur, fingers traveling to the nape of his neck to feel the softness of his hair. You find yourself pulling him closer and leaning up, hand coming up to feel the skin underneath his button up. He lets out a content little sigh and falls forward, pressing his forehead against yours. The hand not on your leg comes up to touch your upper arm, thumb sweeping over the goosebumps that rose without your knowing. That’s what does it. The gesture, so sweet and casual, as if he loves you, makes you move.

Without another thought, you inch up and kiss him, all inhibitions and sensible thoughts dissipating into thin air. Sure, you could lose your job and reputation for canoodling with a patient but who cares? Who  _ could  _ care when you’re kissing Tony Stark? Who cares when he is kissing you back, like he cares for you, like he wants you? 

His lips are soft and pliant, moving against your own in tandem. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck to hold him closer. You’re unsure if there’s ever going to be such a thing as close enough. Tony goes to take a hold of your waist to pull you up with him, holding you so tight that his hands could almost reach his own sides. You feel his tongue swipe at the entrance of your mouth and instantly you let him in to let him take the lead. He tastes bitter like the alcohol he’s been drinking but you’re sure you no better anyways, tasting like sour lemons and cherries.

“T-Tony.” You whisper as his lips trail from your own to the side of your neck. There’s something you want to say but instead you suck in a sharp breath when he nicks at your skin with his teeth and proceeds to soothe the pain with a little lick.

“You’re so beautiful.” Tony mumbles into your neck before continuing to kiss it, hands wandering to the expanse of your back and pressing his fingertips into the indent of your spine. “You’re so damn beautiful, (Y/N).” 

“Tony, someone could walk in on us.” You say, throwing you head back to give him access anyways. The alcohol is messing with your morals and sensibility but it’s hard to focus when he’s pressing open mouthed kisses on your skin. 

“Don’t care, just wanna kiss you.” So he does and he does so thoroughly. There’s no complaint from you when he moves you to press you both up against his sturdy counter top and there’s definitely no resistance when his knee goes to wedge itself between your legs. The slight pressure makes a soft moan escape your throat without your permission and Tony responds with a low growl. His knee moves upwards, a little more forceful than before and the already short hem of your dress hikes up dangerously around your thighs. 

This is bad, you think as one of his hands lower the strap of your dress off your right shoulder so he can press a kiss at your collarbone and then the top of your now exposed breast. You whimper as his hot mouth lavishes attention on your puckering nipple, shooting pleasure throughout your core. He bites harshly, causing you to arch up into his touch, wanting more. 

This is so,  _ so  _ bad, you think when he hoists you up onto his workspace, fingers tracing patterns up your inner thighs promising you more. Your skin tingles where he’s touched you and you can feel your heart already racing in anticipation. Anticipation for what, you’re not sure. His next kiss? His next touch? His next words?

This is probably going to end in a disaster, you think as you throw your head back in bliss. Your body betrays you as you spread your legs to give him space to settle in between them and you feel a rush of lust take over your senses. He jerks you to the edge of the table and presses himself to the core of your body, showing you just how bad he wants this.

“Fucking hell, Tony.” You curse, panties dampening considerably. Your hands curl up in the fabric his shirt, undoubtedly wrinkling it for the rest of the night. He kisses you so dirty, tongue tasting yours and teeth biting at your bottom lip. The thought of him wanting you like this has always been a dream, a wisp in the air that you’ve never quite been able to believe was there. But here he is, pressing his cock up against you and dragging himself across your core. 

“I want to fuck you so bad.” He says in return, drawing out a moan from you. You barely register the sound of your dress unzipping behind you but you definitely feel his teeth on the skin of your breasts, leaving little love bites where only you’ll be able to see. “Wanted this ever since you perched your pretty little ass on my desk in that fucking red pencil skirt.” The confession lights fire inside your bones and you grab his collar, pulling him in for another a brutal kiss. 

His chest rumbles under your fingers as he moves your left leg, hand under the crook of your knee. You feel the sweep of his fingertips from opposite hand across your skin before they come to rest at the center of your underwear, thumb lightly brushing over your swollen clit. The sudden simulation makes you jump and whimper, causing Tony to smile devilishly. He does it again just to test your reaction and you can’t help but let out a shuddering breath. Your hands find their place on his shoulders, gripping tightly for balance and support.

“Tony, don’t you dare start teasing me now.” You order, eyes flashing.

“Bossy, are we?” He asks before leaning down to kiss you. He rubs gently at your core, making your hips buck in an unladylike manner. Before you can yell at him again he pushes aside your panties to sink his middle finger into your wetness, curling up deliciously.

“Oh god.” You whisper, shutting your eyes and bringing your face to the ceiling. It’s almost embarrassing the way you gush, so slick that your thighs are glistening. Tony loves it, it drives him. No one has ever been this wet for him and never so fast. 

“No god here, just me.” He corrects cheekily, slipping another finger into your pussy. You clench around him and wriggle your hips, trying to get  _ moremoremore  _ but Tony keeps a steady pace. You lean back on your elbows, pushing whatever thing he was working on to the floor. Neither of you seem to care and he pulls down the other strap of your dress, exposing you fully to the cool air. The coil in your lower stomach tightens with each stroke, each kiss he places on your skin. Your breath comes in pants and your thighs start to quiver from the strain of staying in that position.

“Tony, Tony I’m going to--”

“That’s right, babygirl.” He whispers, eyes locking with your own. “Cum for me, right here, right now.” You give a pathetic whine at his words, biting your lip to keep quiet as you lean back on your elbows. 

You wait for him to speed up to bring you to completion but he doesn’t. He keeps at the same slow pumping he started with and adds his thumb, circling slowly around your clit. His tongue is searing the skin he laps at on your chest, teeth harsh on your nipples. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for the elastic inside you to snap and you’re a whimpering, gushing mess in his palm, your orgasm overwhelming you to the point where black dots swim in your vision.

The thing that brings you back from your post orgasm high is Tony kissing you, softer than before. His fingers leave you and the emptiness you feel is a little too much to bear. You sigh into his mouth lovingly, your hands resting on his chest where you can feel his heart beating underneath his skin. You start to pull his dress shirt out from his pants, ready to return the favor but a hand, still wet from your own juices pauses you by taking a hold of your wrist.

“What is it?” You ask, looking up to his face. “Do you want to stop?” You see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows and before he answers he leans down for one more kiss. This one is different than the others, filled with desperation and want. He’s soft again and so is his touch. You feel him practically melt above you, emotion dripping onto your body like hot candle wax.

“(Y/N), I love you.” He chokes out when you part. His eyes are wild now, desperately looking into your own for an answer to his statement. Your heart stops in your chest as he continues. “I do. I really fucking do and I want so much more than a quick fuck in my lab, (Y/N). I want to fly you to Paris for dinner and buy you a car dealership for your birthday and do ridiculous shit that I know you’re going to hate but laugh about and I want--” 

You stop him with a kiss, trying to stop his rambling and the way each and every single one of his words is shooting arrows into your heart. He could have said anything else and you would have expected it. He could have told you he’s got a tail left over from his infancy or webbed toes and you would haven’t been phased. But this? This throws you off your groove because never in your life did you ever imagine those words ever being spoken to you. Not from him. Especially not from him. You would have been fine if this was going to be a one night only kind of deal--that’s all you really deserve--but here he is, asking for something more. 

Instead of responding to that you continue to pull his shirt out from his pants and over his shoulder. You palm at his bulge and thankfully to pleasure and the after effects of alcohol distracts him from the severity of his previous statement. He kisses you back as he hikes your dress around your waist, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear so he can pull it down. The metal of his belt clangs as you undo it and pull it from its place, letting the expensive leather drop to the floor as you feel the fabric of your undies fall past your ankles. You catch a glimpse of his dark blue boxers, littered with cartoon robots and it makes you smile into the kiss.

“Cute boxers.” You snicker, pushing them down at the same time as he strips off his undershirt. 

“Like these are any better?” He asks, holding up the nude panties you had been wearing all night. You shriek in embarrassment and laugh, reaching up to grab them from him. He chucks them over his shoulder somewhere already forgotten and kisses you as you giggle, palms hot on your hips as he pulls you closer. 

“Didn’t realize that Tony freaking Stark was going to try and get under my skirt tonight.” You murmur, taking him in your hand relishing in the way his breath hitches. 

He’s thick and hot in your palm and you’ve never wanted anyone more. You hope you can take it; Tony isn’t by any means monstrous (you’re by no means a virgin) but it’s been a  _ while  _ for you and he’s hefty in your fingers. The muscles of his bare stomach twitch as you touch the velvety skin and you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the scar at the center of his chest. “I’ll dress better for the next occasion. Maybe something red? Lacy?” You ask coyishly. His dick twitches and his hands tighten considerably on your skin at the thought, no doubt forming bruises that will bloom by the morning. 

“This okay?” Tony asks softly, positioning himself at your entrance. You nod, and go to kiss him, desperate for contact. “You have to say yes, babe. Let me hear it.” He murmurs huskily against your mouth, head of his cock slipping across the lips of your pussy. 

“Yes, Tony, yes.” You say, not quite believing how perfect Tony is at this very moment. The moan Tony gives when he pushes inside you is sinful. You stretch to accommodate him, whimpering as he moves slowly. You’re already so wet that he bottoms out quickly and you can’t help but clench around him,. His forehead drop to yours and the way he looks at you makes everything in your heart throb. 

“Fucking tight.” Tony mumbles, kissing the corner of your lips to the crook of your neck. “And wet.  You’re so fucking good to me.” 

“Tony, please, faster.” You manage to say, legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close. He growls and actually complies, snapping his hips into yours. The sound that comes from you is debaucherous and causes you to throw your head back, clanging it onto the metal that’s underneath you. Tony likes it so much he repeats what he’s just done again and again and again. His hands grip your hips to keep you in place as he fucks you, pulling forth indecent sounds from your throat. 

“So fucking beautiful.” Tony growls, a thin sheen of sweat shining on his forehead as he looks down at your body. You breasts bounce in front of him and he goes to grab one, thumb sweeping over your nipple. You moan and in hopes of quieting that noise a hand comes up to clamp over your mouth. Tony refuses to let that happen and grabs your wrist, pinning it to the side forcefully.

“Tony, jesus, Tony--” You stammer, eyes fluttering as he somehow finds that sweet spot inside of you. He brushes it over and over, quickly bringing you to that edge once again. His skin slaps against yours every single time he bottoms out and the sound is like music to your ears. 

“Are you going to cum again?” Tony asks darkly, picking up the pace. He plunges inside you roughly and you mewl, only spurring him on. “Cum on my cock, (Y/N), I know you want to. Do it, baby girl. Let me feel you.” 

“Kiss me, Tony.” You say, reaching forward with your free arm. Your hand wraps around the nape of his neck and pulls him to kiss you, opening your mouth immediately to taste him. The new angle of him leaning forward is what has you cumming again and the sounds of his moans let you know he can feel the muscle walls of your pussy spasming on his cock. He’s not far behind and a few more pumps is all it takes for him to empty himself inside you, groaning throatily into your mouth. 

The moment after pulls at your heartstrings. He doesn’t move from his spot, only moving to kiss you sweetly on your lips as you both pant, trying to catch your breath. The once rough hands on your hips is tender, thumb rubbing across your skin. He releases your wrist but pulls your knuckles to his mouth, kissing them enchantingly. Tony looks at you, pupils blown wide with affection and when he pulls out you feel your juices gush as well, wetting your inner thighs and no doubt dripping onto the floor.

“Twice, huh?” Tony inquires smugly, eyes raking over your still naked body. His in-character crudeness breaks the reverie. You roll your eyes as you pull up the straps of your dress and push down the skirt of your dress. Tony follows your actions and pulls up his own pants, buttoning them quickly. You try and slide off the countertop as gracefully as you can but when your heels touch the floor you wobble, legs worse than jelly. It’s a good thing Tony is there to catch you, hands at your hips as your palms fall to his chest. 

At the close proximity you get a whiff of the whiskey on his breath. No doubt there’s the same scent on your own, laced with something tangy. The smell sobers you almost instantly and the weight of what you two just did hits you. You should not have done that. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you really should not have done that. You just  _ slept  _ with a  _ patient _ . A patient that just confessed his feelings to you minutes before. Oh god, they’re going to have your license. Oh god, more importantly, you’ve just ruined Tony Starks recov--

“(Y/N)?” Tony’s gentle voice has you looking up into his eyes before you can think of anything else. They’re bright and clear now, sober as well and it’s too much for you to process in the moment.

“Help me zip up my dress?” You ask, turning around quickly. A shaky hand sweeps your hair to the side and you feel his fingertips do as they’re told. Before you can turn around and say goodnight and  _ run _ , his arms wrap around your waist as his lips find their way to the base of your neck. He breathes deeply but you keep your breath in your chest, knowing he’s going to stay something.

“Stay with me tonight.” 

The sentence is so loaded. Tony Stark, narcissistic genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, is giving himself the option to be rejected. It’s growth. It’s him moving forward and moving on. As his doctor you should really be proud and happy but the deep set knot of dread inside your stomach refuses to let you. You know that if you say no now, everything you’ve been working on with him for the past few months will crumble. His self esteem will fall and he’ll retreat back into his shell and everything you’ve two worked together on will be for naught. So you don’t. You turn around in his arms and look into his eyes, hand coming up to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen out of its place in the midst of passion. 

“Okay.” Tony smiles gently at your words, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You kiss him back, knowing and vowing to yourself it’s the last. The thought hurts so much more than you think it would, than you know it should.

His hand is warm in yours as the elevator takes you up to his floor and no words are exchanged as he strips off his suit and you let your dress pool on the floor beside his bed. Tony gives you a soft and worn cotton t shirt with some band logo on it to wear to bed. You pull it over your head in his private bathroom after you clean up as much as you can, not even able to wear the underwear that is littered somewhere in his lab. The shirt is comforting and when he pulls you to bed you allow him to wrap his arms around you, cheek pressed to the crown of your head. 

“FRIDAY, turn off the lights.” Tony orders. 

“Yes, sir. Goodnight, Mr. Stark. Goodnight, (Y/N).” 

“Goodnight, FRIDAY.” You murmur. “Night, Tony.” Tony breathes deeply and adjusts himself, pressing himself to you tightly.

“Night, sugarcube.” 

He sleeps but you do not. You lay there in the darkness, waiting for his breath to deepen to a point where you know he won’t awake if you move. Each passing moment makes the air heavier and heavier until you’re practically suffocating. You know you should stay and wait till the morning. You know that the best thing to do is communicate and talk about it; that’s what every psychologist or couple therapist would tell you at least. It’s what you would tell other people as well, what you’re telling yourself right now as you lay in Tony’s arms. 

You’re warm here. You feel safe here. This is where you’ve been dreaming to be ever since you met him and it’s obvious that he wants this too. He’s actually sleeping which doesn’t sound like a big deal but it is. His over wired brain is resting for the first time in probably years and who are you to take this away from him? You could stay and help him. It’s what you went into this field to do anyways. It’s what you went through eight years of schooling to do. You wanted to help people.

But you’re not a cure. You’re not a pill or vaccine or patch. You cannot cure Tony Stark. It may feel right but this is wrong. You were brought to the Avengers Tower to help the team, to maximize their mental health and make them the best versions of themself that they can be so they can save the world. Instead you fell in love with one of your patients and  _ slept  _ with him. Good god, where is all your professionalism? 

You know you can’t let this relationship happen. All it’s going to do is give him a crutch, something to hinder his recovery and make it seem like he’s made progress when he really hasn’t. You’ll become Pepper Potts 2.0 and not only is that horribly distressing to think about, it’s not what Tony needs. He needs to be with friends and family, not a lover. If he even loves you. This may be some kind of strange backwards Florence Nightingale syndrome and when he’s all better he’ll realize whatever he feels just isn’t real. Then he’ll leave you.

And you can’t do this either. You can’t fall into some fairy tale romance with some billionaire and expect it to all work out. Not with how you know he’ll put himself in mortal danger so often. That’s the exact reason you don’t date cops or firefighters or anything of the sort. Not to mention how you know the media is going to be all over your relationship with him. Every step you take, everywhere you go, everything you do is going to be monitored and put on gossip blogs and that’s just too much. You don’t want that. This isn’t what you want. Actually, scratch that. You want the fantasy but you know you can’t live it. You’re smarter than that. You’re logical and intelligent and that’s what you’re known for and you’re not about to become a hypocrite. 

With your decision made, you start to roll out of Tony’s embrace. The deep breath he takes in at the movement causes your heart to jumpstart but it falls back into an easy rhythm. Your feet are cold on the floor and FRIDAY sweetly turns a faraway lamp on dim so you can make your way. You walk past your dress on his floor, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. It’s only when you’re safe in the elevator with the doors closed that you feel relieved enough to breathe.

“Where to, (Y/N)?” FRIDAY asks you, making your skin jump.

“My floor please, and make sure no one else gets on this elevator until I’m there.” You order, feeling bare in just Tony’s t-shirt.

“Of course, (Y/N).” The elevator starts to move and you take in a deep breath, eyes closing.

“Time, FRIDAY?” 

“It is 2:21 a.m, (Y/N).”

“Okay FRIDAY. Please initiate the final clause in the contract starting right now.”

There’s a pause before the system replies. You’re scared that FRIDAY may refuse, but she can’t. 

“Are you sure, (Y/N)?” FRIDAY asks, finding a way to sound worried. “Per the final clause, you will be completely hidden from all the Avengers.” 

It sounds so final. Sounds like you’ll never see any of them ever again. Not really, considering they’ll pop up on your newsfeed or on T.V or something but you’ll never see them in real  _ life  _ ever again. There will be no more movie nights or parties to attend to. No more Steve making you poached eggs in the morning or Thor’s horrible coffee or Natasha forcing you into a tight skirt. Tears prick at your eyes at the thought of that and you allow them to spill considering you’re alone anyways. Behind it all, these are your friends now. You don’t have anyone else, just the Avengers but then you went and fucked that all up. 

“Yes, that is what I want.” You say, voice cracking. “I need a cab now, not tomorrow, and send that letter of resignation to Fury for me as well. And um, please delete that footage from the lab, will you?” Your face flushes at the thought of there being a video of you and Tony being intimate in FRIDAY’s database.

“Yes, ma’am. A cab has been called, the letter has been sent, and all audio and visual recordings from inside the lab has been deleted completely.” FRIDAY informs you dutifully.

“Thank you, FRIDAY.” You say as the elevator doors ding open. You’re still wiping away stray tears when you walk onto your floor to find Natasha sitting at your living room, now in pajamas and nursing a cup of something warm that currently is balanced on her distended stomach. She’s only four months along now so she’s not ready to pop just yet. You wonder why she isn’t blissfully asleep in Clints arms. She must have been waiting for you all night after you left the party. The thought of your friend doing something so sweet makes your heart constrict with emotion. 

“Uh, hey, (Y/N).” Natasha says, eyeing your attire quite obviously. “Isn’t that Tony’s favorite shirt?”

“Um, yeah.” You say, dodging her eyes. 

“And you’re not wearing pants…”

“No?”

“And you’re crying--did he do something, (Y/N)?” 

You can’t quite answer because you’re not quite sure what to say. How do you tell her that he confessed his love to you and you love him back but you two will never work because he’s not mentally well enough to delve into a relationship and you cannot, absolutely cannot do anything else to further ruin his journey considering you’ve already slept with him and given him hope that something more could be? How do you tell her that even if you decided to give this a chance, statistically the fame and watching from the media will overwhelm you and he’ll soon get over you once he realizes he’s only been with you because he associates you with recovery and then he’ll leave you because he ever really loved you? You can’t because it’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous that you even let it get this far.

The longer the silence goes the angrier you see Natasha become. She slams her cup on the coffee table in front of her without seeming to care about the hot water that sloshes all over her hand. She gets up and starts stalking towards the elevator, pulling out a short little knife from who knows where, causing your heart to jump.

“No, no, no, Natasha!” You say, running towards the warrior with your palms up to stop her.

“I don’t care who the fuck he thinks he is, I’m gonna kill him.” Natasha says, barrelling right past you.

“Natasha, Natasha, it’s not him, it’s not him, it’s me!” You yell, twisting around and grabbing her free wrist. She whips around confused with her nostrils flaring and hair a halo of fire around her face.  One look at your tear tracked cheeks and she sheaths her knife. 

“What do you mean it’s you?” She asks quietly, taking a step towards you. A soft thumb wipes away a tear and rests on your check comfortingly. “I thought… I thought you liked him.”

“I do, of course, I do. It’s just--”

“He was your  _ date  _ tonight. You guys danced together and--everyone is so happy that his balls finally dropped and he asked you out.”

“I know but it’s complicated and we can’t be together and--”

“(Y/N), I’m sorry to interrupt,” FRIDAY says suddenly. “But your cab will be here in twenty minutes.”

“Cab?” Natasha’s eyebrows go up in question and you swallow the lump in your throat. “Are you leaving?”

“Help me pack?” You request softly instead of answering her unspoken question. Her face blurs in your vision as the waterworks start up again and you can’t bring yourself to explain anything at all. She pauses for a minute but then she slips her wrist out of your fingers to hold your hand. Her face softens and you sag in relief.

“Okay.”

 


	13. THIRTEEN

Tony wakes up to an empty bed which half of him expected but the other half hoped would not be. The sun filters through his blinds which someone had opened and falls silently on to the wrinkled sheets where (Y/N) should be. A slight headache pounds behind Tony’s eyes as he sits up, heels of his hands coming to press into his eyelids. 

“FRIDAY.” Tony says, voice gravelling in the early morning. “Time?”

“6:02 in the morning, sir.”

“Where is (Y/N)?”

A pause. 

“I am not allotted to say sir.”

“FRIDAY, stop joking. Is she on her floor?”

“(Y/N) has requested to keep her location from any member of the Avengers, sir. This is allowed through a clause that you signed five months, three weeks and two days ago.” Tony lets out a sigh of annoyance. 

“That contract is void.” The man says tiredly, reaching for a bottle of water at his bedside table. “Clause 32E, she’s not allowed to sleep with any of us. Breaking of the rule voids the entire contract.”

“Yes, you are correct, Mr. Stark.” FRIDAY says. Tony hears the but before the program even says it. “But per the final clause in the contract, once the mental evaluations of all members of the team have finished (Y/N) reserves the right to remain hidden from all members of the Avenger for her own privacy and safety.”

“It hasn’t finished yet. It hasn’t been six months.”   
“No, it has not but (Y/N) submitted full and proper reports earlier today and deemed everyone in the Avengers at healthy mental capacity, including you sir.” FRIDAY informs Tony. “I feel the need to tell you that she also submitted a letter of resignation from any future evaluations for the Avengers. She will not be coming back in three months.”

“Excuse me?!” Tony yells. “What do you mean earlier today? It’s fucking six in the morning.”   
“(Y/N) submitted the files at 3:38 a.m.” 

“What the hell?” 

“It may or may not have had something to do with her asking me to erase all traces of the actions done from 11:32 p.m to 12:13 a.m, audio and visual.”

“Fuck.” Tony swears, standing up to find something to wear. His vision swims but he shakes his head to clear it, quickly returning to his bed to grab some water. He downs about a two cups before he realizes that his hangover isn’t about to go away. He needs an aspirin or something. 

Tony finds his way to the kitchen where he knows a bottle of acetaminophen is hiding somewhere in the cabinets. It’s only when he’s popping his third pill that Natasha walks into the shared area, still in her workout clothes that are starting not to fit her right anymore by the way her stomach stretches out her yoga pants just a little bit. Tony almost pays no mind to her until she shoots him an icy glare causing his eyebrows to furrow together in confusion.

“What’s your problem?” Tony asks, voice loud just between the two of them.

“You.” is her curt response. She makes it a point to glower at him as she grabs a water from the fridge and gulp it down.

“Excuse me?”

“ _ You _ and the dick you can’t keep in your pants.” Natasha goes on, crunching the plastic bottle in her hand as her just quelled anger rises again. The pieces fall into place in Tony’s mind and his jaw starts to clench. Of course Natasha would know where (Y/N) went. Getting her to spill the beans is going to be near impossible though.

“Where is she, Natasha?” 

“Not here.”

“Obviously! Where did she go?”

“She doesn’t want us to know.” Tony gulps.

“Us or me?” He takes Natasha’s silence as his answer and Tony turns away, ashamed. His hands grip at the edge of the sink, fingertips white from the pressure. Even after taking the medicine his head pounds behind his eyes, making him grimace. Natasha turns to walk away but the words slip out of his mouth, a last desperate plea.

“She said yes.” Tony says. “I asked her. I gave her a chance to tell me no and I would have to stopped but she said yes.”

“You shouldn’t have even made it a choice.” Natasha hissed with no sympathy. “You fucked up Tony. What do you think was going to happen? She was going to stay? And you two were gonna fall in love or some bullshit like--”

“I already love her.” Tony interrupts whipping to head to his teammate. “I  already love her, Natasha.”

“Did you ever ask yourself if she loves you?” Natasha takes his silence as an answer as well and laughs humorously as she shakes her head. “You’re not the only one that lost somebody, Tony. ” The soon-to-be mother places a hand on her stomach lovingly, already hurting for the child who lost an aunt. She starts to walk away but the words she leaves for him digs the guilt in deeper than her presence could. 

Natasha’s right, as much as Tony hates to admit that. (Y/N) was the teams friend as much as she was his. She was probably going to be the godmother to Natasha’s child considering how close the pair had become. Guilt starts to eat at Tony the way acid eats at metal and he escapes the common kitchen before anyone else can come around and hurl insults at him. He returns to the lab, emotions and thoughts churning in his head. 

_ I’ll dress better for the next occasion. Maybe something red? Lacy? _

__ (Y/N)’s words echo in his head repeatedly like a scratched CD. She said the next occasion. Which mean she wanted this, she wanted him in that moment. Right? She stayed with him over night (kind of, barely, halfway), let him hold her in his arms like they were lovers. Isn’t that what they are? What they could be? Tony remembers how he choked out his confession and he’s so goddamn certain that she felt the same way, with how her eyes looked, how she kissed him after. 

Was it a lie? Was that pity sex because he was moping about Potts? It couldn’t have been with the way she held him, the way she kissed him.  Tony refuses to believe that (Y/N) left because she doesn’t love him. It has to be something else so mundane and stupid, but still big enough for her to sneak out in the middle of the night like he’s a regrettable one night stand. 

Tony returns back to his room to quickly change into a different outfit of clothes, gulping down scorching coffee at record time. He goes to the lab, ignoring Bruce’s questions and Clint’s jokes about last night. When he gets there, he almost pauses at the mess that he had left there with (Y/N). He ignores, it, walks past it, let’s it sit there.

“FRIDAY, I need you to cough up (Y/N)’s location.”

“I’m sorry sir, I cannot do that. It is written into my programming that I am not allowed to violate (Y/N)’s privacy.

“Fine. I need a number then. I need to call her.”

“I’m sorry sir, I cannot do that. It is written into my  _ programming  _ that I am not allowed to violate (Y/N)’s privacy.”   
“Come on, FRIDAY, give me something.” Tony pulls at his hair, trying to think of somehow to get to  (Y/N). “Can you give me her car’s coordinates? Where is BabyBot?”

“I’m sorry sir, I cannot do that. It is  _ written  _ into my  _ programming  _ that I am not allowed to violate (Y/N)’s privacy.”

“You already fucking said that!” Tony yells, his voice echoing in the empty lab. 

“Yes, sir. You are correct. I said that it is  **_WRITTEN_ ** into my  **_PROGRAMMING_ ** that I am not allowed to violate (Y/N)’s privacy.”

It clicks.

“FRIDAY, are you trying to tell me that it’s written into your programming to not allow me to know anything about (Y/N)?”

“Yes, my programming.”

“So maybe if your programming is a little bit different you’d be able to give me what I want?”

“I’m not sure, sir, but you can always try.”   
FRIDAY, you clever, clever, AI. 

 


	14. FOURTEEN

“Sir, you can’t park there!” A random man exclaims, walking over to Tony just as the billionaire gets out of the car. The door slams behind him loudly, mimicking his explosive emotions. 

“I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Tony says, barrelling right past him as his eyes travel up the expanse of the Millennium Tower. “Ten minutes!” He repeats when the bell boy starts to sputter. It’s a lie of course and Tony doesn’t give any kind of shit if his car gets towed. He would have taken the suit but that would have brought too much attention and (Y/N) definitely would not like that  _ on top _ of him showing up at her work unannounced.

She’s in that building, right there in front of him. Five damn months of rewriting and repatching up FRIDAY until that damn system would cough up (Y/N)’s location and she ends up in fucking Boston. Before FRIDAY had even finished saying the zip code, Tony was in the car and pulling out of the Avenger Towers driveway to make his way to the airport. He books the redeye to the city where (Y/N) acquired a cushy little job five months ago in the Millenium Tower, playing couple therapist to rich unfaithful businessmen and their heartbroken wives.

(Y/N) is up there in some Class A office on the 43rd floor, sitting at some desk with her legs crossed underneath it and pen twirling in her hand. Tony can practically see it etched behind his eyelids every single time he blinks. He can see her hair thrown up in a bun, wisps of her hair framing her eyes and cheeks. He can see her smile, wide on her lips and he can see her in her signature pencil skirt and blouse. He’s only been waiting for this every single day since she’s left the tower.

The moment Tony walks into the building he hears the buzz from the people. His name is thrown about and a few even call for him but he ignores it; he even ignores the ample amount of cell phones that pop up, ardently recording and taking pictures of him. Instead, he chooses to make a beeline for the elevator with his eyes up front. It opens magically as he arrives and he steps in just as an awestruck little old lady walks out. Her hand comes up to clutch at the pearls strung around her neck as she slowly realizes who he is.

“Iron Man?” She asks softly.

“Off duty, ma’am.” Tony answers as he reaches forward and punches the  CLOSE DOOR button repeatedly. The awkward eye contact between him and the elderly woman is unnerving and almost a little funny as the titanium doors shut her out of his vision. Tony watches like a hawk as the floors go up, up and up. Ten, twenty, thirty,  _ fourty… _ .

The elevator stops and Tony could have punched a wall if they weren’t all metal. He takes in a deep breath to calm himself and does his best to control his facial features to hide annoyance. When the door opens a pretty young girl walks in, probably no more than twenty. She’s oddly familiar looking in a professional collared dress and black heels as she speaks to someone on the phone. When she goes to press a floor, she pauses and steps back once she sees that the button is already all lit up. Apparently she’s going to the 43rd floor as well. Tony barely cares, only needing to get to (Y/N).

“Yeah, sis, I’m coming up.” The girl says, throwing her hair over the shoulder opposite to Tony. A voice warbles on the other end, also oddly familiar? “My date was okay. He was nice? I don’t know, there was something about or maybe it’s because I usually date girls? Men are only nice in theory. I mean, if only he looked like Tony Stark, then I’d be all over it but he’s like--” A shriek and babbling from the sister.”What? Oh please, it’s not like he’s around or anything. No one knows about your little rendezvous with the hero but us.” Angry muttering and an upward lilt at the end of the sentence to signal a question. “Yeah there is but the only person in this elevator with me is--”

“Tony Stark.” The man in question says blandly, a smirk on his lips. Tony wishes he could have taken a video snapshot of the way the girl drops her phone along with her jaw just as the elevator doors open. It’s quite comedic. Looking at her head on now, Tony realizes why she looks so familiar. The slope of that nose, the part of that hair--she’s (Y/N)’s little sister, Rose. He met her last year at Thanksgiving.

“T-Tony Stark?” The young girl stammers out. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for your sister.” Tony explains as he walks out of the elevator. The young pre-law student merely looks at him in shock as he places a palm in front of the sliding door sensors to keep them from shutting. “Care to lead me to her, Rose?”

“Oh, um, yeah, sure, oh my god.” She answers, leaning down to pick up her phone. Tony can see that the entire front screen is cracked and he expects the girl to throw some kind of fit as the young ones tend to do nowadays. “Awh crap,” Rose says instead, brushing it off with her fingers as she exits the elevator. “This is like, the third time this year.”

“It’s April.”

“Yeah, I’m a total klutz.” The girl laughs as she starts to walk ahead of him. “Um, you can come this way. My sister's office is right over here. She’s got one of the bigger ones with a nice view and all.” Tony damn sure hopes she does. He had taken a look at what Stark Industries was paying her all those months and it was definitely a pretty penny. 

“Does she talk about me often?” Tony asks as they make their way around the office, ignoring the way people’s eyes latch on him as he passes. The question sounds pathetic, as if he’s some kind of high school boy but he wants to know anyways. 

“She tries not to.” Rose answers softly, glancing over to him. “Tries, is the keyword.” 

“Yeah, well, I just spent the last five months of my life tracking her down so I doubt I’m any better.” Tony says, bones shaking as they get closer. It’s almost like he can feel her presence getting bigger in his head. His body responds ridiculously, sweating and thrumming like he just dropped some acid. 

“Really? She’s like, on facebook.” Rose points out as they arrive to a set of double doors. “You could have just googled her or something.” Tony goes to explain how that wouldn’t work but a glimpse of (Y/N) from behind bamboo blinds makes his heart stutter in his chest.

“Rose, send your phone to the Avengers Tower and I’ll fix it for you.” Tony says as he reaches for the silver lever handle.

“Oh, really?” Rose asks. “I can just bring it to the store or something.”

“It’s fine. I’ll put something on it so you won’t break it again.” Tony explains whimsically as he pushes down. “Do me a favor and keep people out of our hair for a little while, will you?” Tony requests. He doesn’t even wait for an answer and just makes his way through the doorway, breathing shallow when he finally lays his eyes on (Y/N). 

“Oh, Rose, babe, can you come here and--” 

Tony watches as her eyes widen to about the size of a full moon, lashes fanning out prettily. The pupils dilate as her lips part to take in a sharp breath at the sight of him. She was sitting when he walked in but now with her eyes on his, (Y/N) stands, hands on her desk to help steady her. Her outfit is just so  _ her _ ; a charcoal pencil skirt and white button up, matching jacket hanging up beside the door. She doesn’t look any different. Just as beautiful with the setting sun glowing behind her to signal the end of the work day. Not any older, not stricken with grief and exhaustion like he is. It makes him feel a little offended and it’s just a reminder that he needs her more than she needs him.

“Tony.” (Y/N) says, swallowing after the word is spoken like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. Little does he know that she only does it to try and stabilize her own voice, hoping it doesn’t shake with emotion. “But I...FRIDAY was supposed to--”

“I deleted her.” Tony says shortly. The shock on (Y/N)’s face, as if he just said he ran over a box of puppies spurs him to explain. “I deleted her and then I rewrote her coding all over again so she could find you for me.”

“Tony.” His name is said tiredly and even so it sounds beautiful coming from (Y/N)’s mouth. “That must have taken months.”

“It did. I just finished yesterday.” She connects the dots, of course she does, she’s so smart and continues to look at him sadly. He’s been sitting in his lab for the past five months, dead set on finding her and all she’s done is move on. Didn’t even have the decency to move to the other side of the country or anything, just an hour and a half flight away.

“There was a reason I did what I did, Tony. I didn’t want--”

“That was mean of you.” Tony interrupts, reaching into his pocket as he turns away. He blinks away the burning in his eyes, refusing to be the one that cries and pulls out two little gizmos he had designed for this very meeting. He places them on opposite ends of the lever handles, hoping that she doesn’t see his hands shaking.

“What’s that, Tony?” (Y/N) asks as she watches him click the two buttons at the top of the silver rectangles. Two blue beams appear, connecting the pair and humming quietly. It’s barely noticeable above the noise of the bustling city.

“It’s to make sure you don’t run away.” Tony says. He turns around, hurt now obvious on his face. “Again.” 

“Tony.” She says his name and this time it sounds like she’s begging him. For what he’s not sure but suddenly all the anger he’s kept controlled these past few months explodes.

“Don’t  _ Tony  _ me.” He seethes, walking to her. “Don’t do you dare. Not after what you fucking did, (Y/N).” The curse falls from his lips changes her demeanor and she retaliates.

“If you’re so mad then why are you here?” She says right back, never one to be afraid of Tony Stark. “What are you going to do? Berate me? Yell at me? I had no obligation to stay.”

“You said that you would!” Tony yells, fists clenching at his side. “You said you would stay with me that night. I wasn’t asking for an eternity, (Y/N), I asked for a night and you couldn’t even give me that. For god's sake, I told you that I love you!”

“Oh, and what?” (Y/N) begins, walking around the side of her desk. Her own anger starts to simmer, strikingly similar to his. “That means I had to stay? That means I had to be with you? That’s bullshit, Tony, and for you to show up here at my  _ work-- _ ”

“Well, what did you expect?” Tony asks incredulously, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “You think I was just going to let you walk out of my life? Out of our lives? Natasha is  _ eight months along _ and--”

“Oh don’t you dare use Natasha against me.” (Y/N) says, voice dangerously low. “That’s low, Stark, even for a man like you.”

“She misses you.” Tony informs her, ignoring the dig. He watches as her eyes mist over with tears but he can’t stop himself. “Clint misses you. Fucking Loki misses you, even if he doesn’t admit it. He leaves little books everywhere around the the goddamn tower, hoping you’ll come back for them. Steve can’t stop making extra portions of breakfast. Thor mopes. And for you to just cut us out like that? What gave you the  _ right _ ?”   
“What gave  _ you  _ the right to track me down like this?” She almost screams, hand coming up to place over to her heart as she emphasizes herself. “I set up that clause in the contract to prevent this from happening, Stark. I did not want to be found. It went too far. I could not help you and the team when my feelings are compromised like that! It was unprofessional and detrimental to your progress and--”

“You could have quit.” Tony says. “You could have quit and then you could have stayed and we could have tried and--” Her bark of laughter stops Tony short. (Y/N) laughs and shakes her head, turning away from him. A hand comes up to rest on her hip and the other brushes the hair away from her face as she steps towards the opposite side of the room. 

“That’s so typical.” (Y/N) says dejectedly, head hanging. “You know, I really thought we made some progress but of course, of fucking course you would want me to quit my job to be with you.” The eyes that come up to look at Tony now are furious, burning with rage.

“What are you talking about?”

“Once a narcissist, always a narcissist.” (Y/N) continues to say, vexing Tony further. “Have you ever thought, just once, ever, that not everyone and everything is about you? You think I’m going to quit being a doctor, the thing I have been working for and as for the past ten years of my life, for you? For a relationship that won’t work out?”

“What makes you think it won’t work out?” Tony demands from her ignoring everything else she says.  He wants to tell her that M.A.S.I, the mental health department that he mentioned during her first press conference is up and running, merely waiting for her direction but his already spoken question takes precedence.

“Because we’re different people Tony.” (Y/N) says as if that explains everything. “I can’t live in your life. You can’t live in mine. You only think you love me, but you don’t, Tony, and I don’t--”

“Don’t you dare say that.” Tony cuts her off, knowing exactly what she might tell him. She turns around to face him, to walk towards him and confront him. Maybe this will the string that still seems to tether him to her. (Y/N) had hoped the cold hearted act of leaving without goodbye would throw Tony off her tail but the stubborn jerk just wouldn’t stop. 

“Say what? Say that I don’t--”

“You do.” Tony refuses to let her finish which causes her to stop short right in front of him. “You love me, I know you do.”

“Jesus, Tony, take a fucking hint! I don’t want a relationship with you because it won’t work out. We barely know each other, there’s no way you love me and I do not, I repeat, do not--”

His lips are on hers before she finishes. He couldn’t let her say it. He wouldn’t be able to hear those words and not fall apart. His palms are cradling her face as he kisses her and he feels her hands fall to his forearms, gripping tightly to either pull him close or push him away. He doesn’t care which. Tony has wanted this moment to be so much better than this, wanted her to run into his arms so he can kiss her like she deserves. He didn’t want to steal a kiss like a starving man, but if this is how gets a last one, he’ll take it. And Tony, poor Tony with his aching chest and combusting lungs kisses (Y/N) like it’s his last day on earth. He kisses her and tries to show her that he’s changed, really, and if he hasn’t then all he knows is that he loves her. The days have become a blur and his life has become a mess and all Tony knows is that he  _ loves  _ her. He’s just about to pull away but then like a miracle, she kisses him back.

That’s all it takes. She kisses him back tentatively, not even meaning to, her body merely responding to the familiarity and it blows open a floodgate. He’s not sure how it happens but suddenly he’s got her pressed up against her desk, her arms around his neck. His hands slip up from behind her to feel the warmth of her skin below the thin white button up, craving intimacy.  Her hands are in his hair where they belong and Tony doesn’t even stop to breathe, merely trying to soak as much of her in as possible through the connection of their lips. Finally, when his lungs are burning and her grip turns painful, he lets up. The feel of her heartbeat beating erratically under his palms is so satisfying and the look on her face when he sees it causes his own to stop. Her eyelashes flutter as she blinks, looking dazed and sweet as she gazes up to him with clear adoration. With cheeks dusted pink, she licks her lips which are parted and plump, only making Tony want to kiss her more.

“You can’t say you don’t love me.” Tony whispers painfully, nose pressing against hers. “If you don’t love me, you wouldn’t kiss me like that.”  

He’s right and he can tell that (Y/N) thinks so too by the way she tilts her head up to brush her lips against his again. Her exhale is sweet as he breathes her in, holding her like she’s his soul. She is. It’s so strange to think like this. Ask him a year ago what Tony Stark thinks of soulmates or true love and he would laughed in your face. But the Tony now can’t live without her. He feels that pull towards her and he can’t deny it.

“Tony, this isn’t going to work.” She tells him softly, fingers holding tightly at the lapels of his suit. “Not because, because of how we feel but because--”

“Because what? Because I’m a narcissistic genius billionaire playboy philanthropist?” Tony asks, pulling a strangled laugh from her. “I’ll change. I’ll become a humble, stupid, poor, prudey misanthropist and we can go live in a hut in Africa and--”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean.” She says, laughing fully now. It’s such a beautiful goddamn sound and it makes him realize just how much he’s missed it. Her hands rest on Tony’s chest, fingers finding a button to mess with as she speaks. “It’s just….I can’t be your crutch. I can’t be another Pepper and I can’t be with you when you’re still trying to recover--”

“You’re not Pepper.” Tony says sincerely. “Pepper and I--it wasn’t real. I thought it was but we just took the next step because that seemed like the right thing to do after everything that happened. I loved Pepper, yes, but not like I love you. And good god, do I love you. I love you so much (Y/N).”

“But Tony--”

“And that whole crutch thing is bullshit. I’m fine. No, I’m serious. Take a guess at

many drinks I’ve had since you left. If your guess is anything above zero, you’re wrong. I have slept five hours  _ every  _ night, just ask FRIDAY. You know she’ll tell you the truth, she likes you more than me. That’s a step right? One of those steps you’re always talking about. I’ve taken it. I’ll take a million more. So come home with me, (Y/N). Come home.”

Home. The word rings in (Y/N)’s ears and settles into her heart the way dust settles on wood. Warmth that’s been missing spreads from her stomach to the rest of her body and she can’t deny that the idea of it sounds so nice. Her logical side still overtakes her and the doctor presses her palms against Tony’s chest, pushing slightly. He steps back looking confused but his hands fall away from her waist to take her hands in his.

“What happens when this is over, Tony?” (Y/N) asks genuinely, looking up to his handsome face. “What happens when this honeymoon stage of us being together dwindles and we’re stuck with the same problems all over again?”

“We’ll solve them.” The look on her face is a mixture of disbelief and tiredness but Tony doesn’t give up. “I know you think I can’t recover, or get better or whatever it is if we become something. I say that’s bullshit. You want to know why? Because I’ve been in love with you. I’ve loved you all this time and still you’ve helped me. You’re always saying, find a reason, Tony, find a reason to recover. Why can’t it be you?” He raises a hand to his lips and kisses (Y/N)’s knuckles sweetly and when she smiles at this he ventures further by pressing a kiss to her palm. Naturally she ends up cupping his face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

“Home.” (Y/N) says, just barely and Tony nods. 

“Come home.” He asks of her. “Come home and take care of me because if you thought I was wreck before, oh Lord, you will not believe the wreck I have been without you.” She laughs at that, as Tony goes to brush away more tears that just don’t seem to stop. 

Just as (Y/N) opens her mouth to tell him that yes, she will come home, the phone in his back pocket rings. She pauses to let him answer it but all he does is look at her, waiting for an answer.

“Tony, your phone.” (Y/N) states, smile curling at the corner of her lips

“Don’t care.” He answers bluntly. 

“What if it’s Happy?” 

“He can wait.”

“Steve?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Fury?”

“I am caring even  _ less _ \--you know you’re really bad at this.” The laugh that comes from her makes a smile of his own. Just as the phone dies down, it starts up once again and Tony rolls his eyes.

“Just answer it!” (Y/N) orders laughing and Tony begrudgingly reaches into his back pocket for his phone.

“It’s Clint.” Tony presses accept and holds the phone up to his ear. “Hello?”   
“SHE’S HAVING THE BABY.”

“What?”

“NATASHA IS-- OH SHE IS-- TONY THE BABY--”

“Okay, Clint, calm down. Is she having the baby? What hospital are you guys at?”

“SHE’S HAVING IT RIGHT NOW! RIGHT--”

“Oh calm down, mortal, give me the device. Hello, man of iron!”

“Uh, Thor?”

“You lady friend is currently giving birth in the medicine room at your home. She would very much like for you to return to the tower as fast as you can.” A little scream in the background causes (Y/N) to look at Tony in worry. 

“Be right there.” Tony hangs up and before (Y/N) can ask what just happened he’s pulling up FRIDAY on his phone. “Need a private jet to NYC right now, FRIDAY.” 

“Yes, sir. Room for two?”

“Natasha is having her baby.” Tony informs (Y/N). She sees the excitement in his eyes and she waits for him to ask her. “Coming home?”

“Of course.” 

 


	15. FIFTEEN

Granted, you probably should have thought this out a little more. All your stuff is in your apartment, you don’t even have a change of clothes, and your sister is blowing up your work email because apparently her phone broke again? All the mundane bills and chores you have so painstakingly gotten used to these past few months invades your mind. Who is gonna pay your rent? Your phone bill? Internet bill? Water bill? You’re probably not going back to that old job because you left in the middle of the day and Fury is for sure not going to hire you back once he finds out that you and Tony Stark had sex on top of his lab work bench. Your plants are going to go unwatered! If you call that miserable excuse of an orchid flower a plant. And you had just gotten a goldfish; who is going to feed Mr. Goldy now? Rose won’t do it. She couldn’t keep algae on a rock alive if she tried. Not to mention, your toilet is still--

“(Y/N)?” Tony’s voice causes you to look up and immediately those warm brown eyes of his melts away all your thoughts. He looks worried and you feel his thumb brush across your cheek. “You alright?” 

“Yes.” You murmur even though you’re unsure of how truthful your answer is. “I’m just--Natasha, you know?”

“We’re gonna land soon.” Tony reassures you. “Maybe by then the little sucker will be born and I won’t have to be the brunt of her hormonal bitchiness anymore.” You laugh at that and shake your head, gratefully intertwining your fingers with his when he goes to hold your hand.

“Has she been horrible?” You ask. “She was only getting a little bit moody the last time I saw her.”

“She has been the devil.” Tony answers, shaking his head. “I literally walk into the room and she’s throwing knives at me. Though I’m not sure whether that’s because she’s pregnant or because she blames me for you leaving.” The words strike pain into your chest and your hand squeezes his.

“I’m sorry.” You say, eyes downcast. “I knew...I thought it would be for the best. For the both of us. All of us.” He lifts your connected skin to his lips, pressing a kiss on the soft back of your hand. The gesture disarms you and your heart constricts so tight. 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re coming home now.” Tony leans into kiss you, naturally as if you hadn’t been apart for the last five months, and not missing a beat you close the distance. His kiss is ethereal and you stop caring about anything else at all. 

You’ve missed him. You’ve missed him so damn much. That first month without him, without seeing his eyes in the morning or feeling the pads of his fingertips on your arms and small of your back--god it was torturous. You tried everything to rid yourself of that ache inside your blood, the one that calls you back to the Avengers tower, that calls you back to him. Yoga, meditation, exercise, therapy, you did all of it. Even had the courage to go out on a date with this one guy who looked suspiciously too much like Stark but wasn’t nearly as smart or clever or handsome.

Now with him here, you’re unsure of why you ever left in the first place. With him here and you feeling safe and warm and content for the first time in months, you curse yourself for all the time you’ve lost. You could have had this, could have had him and all his kisses and touches but instead you chose to leave. Like always, your logical head took over your bleeding heart and said, “Let’s go.” when you should have just stayed. No more of that, you vow internally. Your heart will lead now, and your head will just have to deal.

By the time you get there, the baby has been born and cleared as 100% healthy. The doctor in the elevator who is leaving looks tired and scared all at the same time, probably shaken by Natasha’s multiple threats. Tony presses a kiss to your temple as he takes your hand, leading you out of the elevator and onto the infirmary floor where you once spent many nights. The first thing you notice is how Clint is a gross crying mess, sitting at Natasha’s side. She’s radiant, the most beautiful smile on her lips as she rocks a little bundle of joy in her arms.  Everyone’s there. Steve, Clint, Bucky, Thor and even Loki. Your breath stops when they all look in your direction, lodged in your throat in fear. 

“You know, Tony can be spelled with an -i to feminize it.” Tony announces beside you, tugging you along like a child. 

“Not naming my kid after you, Stark.” Natasha says, finally looking up from her child. Her eyes travel from Tony to his hands and then back up to your face, finally connecting the dots.

“Hey.” You say, gaze flitting from her to all the faces of the Avengers. 

“Hi.” Natasha murmurs, face full of disbelief. 

“Is that her?” You ask, voice cracking like you’re a teenager again. 

“Yeah.” You see Natasha smile, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes as she bounces the baby in her arms. “Do you want to come say hi?”   
You practically run over to her, Tony’s hand slipping out of yours. The men shift out of your way and even Clint stands so you can take a seat beside your best friend. Before you can protest, Natasha is placing the baby in your arms and you gasp. 

“Oh my god.” You whisper, gazing down. 

“Her name is Anastasia. Ana, for short.” Natasha lets you know, finger brushing away a lock of dark red hair on her child's forehead. 

“And her middle name is  (Y/N).” Clint supplies softly. 

The dam breaks and you’re crying, tears streaming consistently down your cheeks. Anastasia is beautiful, a spitting image of her mother and father. Wavy maroon locks adorn her head and her father's blue eyes blink sleepily at you, pink lips parting to babble quietly. She’s so unbelievably small and you want to hold her tightly but you’re scared to hurt her. You reach for her small little hand and like a miracle on Christmas Day, her fingers unwrap to grab you. 

Years of schooling tells you that babies are much more resilient than people think they are. Years of professors talking at you for eight hours a day informs you that all you’re experiencing right now is the Palmer grasp reflex, and not Anastasia clutching onto you because she likes you. Once again, you know all this, but your heart presses against your ribcage as you breathe and won’t stop.

“Alright, stop hogging the baby.” Tony suddenly exclaims, making himself known. “Let me at her.” 

“Drop her and I’ll kill you.” Natasha threatens as you’re handing Ana over to Tony. The moment she’s gone you turn around and attack Natasha with a hug, sniffling pathetically.

“I’m so sorry.” You say, squeezing her tightly. She embraces you back, rubbing your back and comforting you as if she hadn’t just given literal birth.

“I understand,  _ zolotse _ .” Natasha says, sitting back. She gives you a sweet smile as you do your best and brush away the tears on your cheeks. “You had to do what you need to do.”

“Are you back now?” You look up to find Steve. He’s standing closer now and his eyes are questioning.

“I am.” You confirm, eyes fluttering over to Tony. He’s passing Ana over to a very excited and twinkly eyed Thor and your heart jumps.

“Yeah, and do you guys want to see something cool?” Tony asks, walking over to you. 

Confused, you look up to him when he stops in front of you and reaches for your hand. You allow him to do so and then he pulls you up, free arm wrapping your waist. Tony Stark leans down to kiss you and you squeak in surprise. You feel his smile on your lips and you end up laughing into his mouth as your friends around you whoop and yell in encouragement. When you both part, he refuses to let you, merely looking into your eyes and smiling. 

“What?” You ask him, quiet enough so only he can hear.

“Welcome home.”

  
  
  


It’s midnight when the group branches off to their separate floors. Natasha and Clint had retired early with Ana, claiming that the crib that Clint has been trying to build without anybody's help for the past two months to no avail needs to be finished. Bruce accompanies them after an hour or so after a message from Natasha , requesting the doctors help because Clint is driving her insane (“He took off his hearing aids so he can ignore my nagging, Bruce. Come up here and help him or kill him, I don’t care which one.”). Soon after, Thor and Loki blip off to some strange missions that Tony doesn’t care for and he’s left sitting in the living room with (Y/N) in the middle of night.

“This is familiar.” Tony states, bringing up his cup to sip at his non alcoholic arnold palmer. 

“I think this is where we had our first date.” She teases in return, smiling flirtatiously. 

“Ah yes, chinese food and a shitty foreign film.” Tony remembers nodding. “Not one of my best ideas but I must say it did the trick.” (Y/N) laughs which then evolves into a yawn. Tony reaches over to cup her face, stroking her cheek. “Tired?” He asks her.

“A little bit,” (Y/N) admits. “but I don’t want to go to bed without you.”

“I’m tired, too.” Tony lies, standing up and bringing her with him. “Let’s go to sleep.”

Tony asks FRIDAY to take them to his floor considering the sheets in her bed haven’t been touched in months. He had that whole floor on lock down the day after she left, no one in and no one out. The air is probably stagnant by now and he doesn’t feel like breathing that in after the day they’ve both had. Her hand is soft in his as they go down in the elevator, thumb rubbing over the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Do you have clothes I can borrow?” (Y/N) asks him softly, placing the side of her head on his shoulder.

“You can always just wear nothing to bed.” He suggests, pulling another laugh from her.

“Horrible.” She replies. The words are mean but the way she pulls him out of the elevator and into his own floor is needy and sweet. (Y/N) turns around and waits for him to walk into her arms, hands finding their way into his hair.

“You love me.” Tony states cheekily, pulling her flush to him by her hips. 

“I do.” She hums, face tipping up to kiss him. “I love you.” 

Tony kisses her warmly, savoring the way she presses herself to him. His heart thumps inside of his chest, beating more steadily than it ever has before at her words. She  _ loves  _ him. (Y/N) (L/N) loves him. He could have cried at that and if they were in a movie the words would have cleansed all of his self hate, all of his self doubt. They’re not and he still knows he doesn’t deserve her but it helps, by god it helps. Tony feels light and ecstatic as she kisses him, dragging her teeth across his bottom lip. 

Bolder now, (Y/N) reaches down and tugs his shirt out of his pants, unbuttoning it at lightning speed. Her hands spread across his chest, fingers tracing over the scar of his old injury as he peels off his top most layer to throw it somewhere he doesn’t particularly care about at this moment. Her touch permeates through the old and time-toughened tissue, warming him from the inside out. Tony’s breathe stutters when her lips leave his and her teeth find his neck, nipping as she goes to unbuckle his belt. 

The action sends a zing between his legs and Tony wants her so bad. It’s been a long fucking time for Tony and her simple action has blood rushing south faster than anything else has before. He wants to grab her and throw her on the bed, fuck her till she can’t walk but when he grabs her hips flashbacks of her leaving his bed makes him pause. Tony slows down his kiss the moment the reach his doorway and stops when (Y/N) passes the threshold.

“Are you okay?” (Y/N) asks in a worried tone. 

“If I--If we do this,” Tony starts, hating how fucking weak and vulnerable his voice sounds. “will you be here in the morning?” The way her face scrunches up makes him feel like he’s been punched in the gut but the worry is real. 

“Tony, I’m staying.” She confirms, looking at him straight in the eye. “Okay? I love you.”

The words make his whole world shake and Tony nods, leaning in to kiss her again. He mumbles okay against her mouth, wanting to get closer and closer. Tony finds the top of the zipper of her skirt and slowly he drags it down. He feels her smile against their kiss and she helps him by pulling out her shirt from the waistband. Tony presses kisses against her jaw and neck as he walks her back across the expanse of his space, guiding her to the bedroom. (Y/N) sighs happily from his attention and the skirt falls to the floor. Tony almost trips over it which makes her laugh and to be honest, Tony would trip over a million things to keep her happy.

(Y/N) turns around and takes his hand, dragging him along to the bed. Tony whistles at the flash of red from her underwear and she laughs again. The sight of her falling onto her back, the spring of his bed bouncing her back, is beautiful. Her hair splays beneath her, white button up halfway undone and the straps of her garter belt lead up to where he wants to bury his face. 

“I love you.” Tony says as he crawls his way up to her. “I love you. I love you.”

“Just come here and kiss me.” (Y/N) orders and of course, how can Tony deny her? She tastes like home, like love and sunshine and hope. He lavishes her with his mouth across every expanse of skin that he can reach and when he wakes up the next morning, she’s there. The morning after that, she’s there. Every morning after that, she’s there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys, so that's the end! Thank you so much for reading if you've gotten this far. I started writing this baby around late March and it's late May now so it's been two months of progress. I think everyone should get the chance to fall in love with Tony Stark.
> 
> Anyways! I hope everyone has enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Please leave a comment and let me know you feelings and things that you liked or dislike. I may or may not write an epilogue? Regardless, thank you for reading.
> 
> -Jesse


	16. EPILOGUE 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! This is the first of 2 epilogues I have written for this series. I just really love this universe I've created. Anyways. This is SMUT, like plotless mindless self indulgent smut. Readers beware. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

Your eyes blur the longer you stare at the page. Groaning you push it away, palms coming up to press at your eyelids. You’re exhausted. Days and nights of working as the director of the M.A.S.I have really been taking its toll on you. What Tony did for you, making you the director, really is something that you appreciate but he didn’t do much else. Everything is up to you; what to do and how to do it, who to hire and how the ranks go, you’re to decide it all. It’s an amazing opportunity for you considering you have no limitations. Tony has made it clear that his money and influence is at your beck and call. 

Regardless, the work is immense. You have a great team lined up so far, each focusing on different niche in mental health. You just hope that once this whole thing is ready to launch, it’ll do some good. Sighing you lean back into your chair, a yawn following soon after. You hear footsteps and in a minute you see Tony entering your office. The pleasure that ripples through you makes you smile even with how exhausted you are. 

“There’s my big bad and talented M.A.S.I director.” He teases as he shuts the door behind him. He must have just come back from some sort of professional meeting, wearing a dark blue suit. It compliments him well and you wonder how did you ever get so lucky. 

“You mean your tired, grumpy and exhausted M.A.S.I director.” You pout as he makes his way over to you. 

“Baby girl can’t handle the workload?” You roll your eyes at that but smile at the nickname. He finds himself on the other side of the desk, leaning down to give you a kiss. His lips are warm and soft, making your head buzz and your heart squeeze. 

Tony takes your hand and tugs you up. You comply and watch him take a seat in your chair, promptly pulling your bottom to his lap. He wraps his arms around you waist, fingers inching underneath your suit jacket. You laugh as he kisses your shoulder and then the crevice of your neck. Fingers gently sweep your hair to the side so he can access the sweet spot behind your ear. You let out a shuddering sigh, goosebumps rising on your thighs.

“I have work to do, Mr. Stark.” You inform him, doing nothing to keep him away. 

“Go ahead.” He murmurs. “I won’t bother you.” You roll your eyes even though he can’t see you. He damn well knows how bothersome he’s being. Two can play at that game if that’s what he wants. 

“Fine.” You say curtly, deciding to ignore his loving administrations. You grab a pen and pull a new resume from the stack to your right to go through. Opening the manila folder, you lean forward to rest your weight on your elbows while simultaneously escaping Tonys ever insistent mouth 

“Well this isn’t too bad either.” Tony says cheekily. You feel his hands slowly trace the outline of your body, fingers dipping into the curve of your waist and then all the way down to your thighs. There no shyness in Tonys actions as you feel him slightly lift his hips to rub himself against your ass. You attempt to muffle a moan with your free hand but by god do you fail. 

Something changes in him once he hears that. He lifts you off his lap only to quickly bend you over your desk, ass high in the air. Tony grabs your left arm and turns your wrist so he can pin it to your back, soon following the same procedure with your right. You hold your breath at the intensity, feeling his grip tighten almost painfully on your forearms to keep them together.Your face is pressed to the cool oak wood, cheek smooshed. 

One thing you’ve realized over these past few months that you two have been intimate is that sometimes, Tony likes it  _ rough.  _ Rough with you, particularly and you’ve made it more than clear that you absolutely do not mind. So far it’s been nothing but harsh fucking and some pulls of your hair so you know he’s holding back. You’ve always known he’s wanted to do much more. 

“Tony?” You ask meekly, unsure of what he’s planning.

“You look good like this.” Tony compliments darkly.

The sound of fabric rustling makes you look back. His eyes connect with yours as you watch him take off his tie only to use it has a makeshift rope. He changes the position of your arms and presses the inner part of your wrists together, tying them tight with said tie. The thing that surprises you so much is not the fact that he’s doing this in your goddamn office no less, but the fact that you  _ like _ it so much. You feel comfortable, safe, excited even by his actions. You shut your eyes and put your head back down, letting out a submissive sigh. The sight of his jacket and button up fluttering to the floor in your vision is almost blissful. You know he’s surely smiling. You’ve just consented to god knows what. 

His grip stays tight on your wrists but you feel his free hand grope an ass cheek, squeezing the flesh painfully. Without warning his hand leaves to come down quickly with a slap. You jump in your place but keep quiet, standing up on the ball of your foot. It hurts but after your skin is warm, tingling pleasurably. You don’t mind it, not one bit. You kind of want him to do it again, harder. 

Tony Stark has a spanking kink and apparently so do you. 

“(Y/N), we need a safe word.” Tony says, all of a sudden serious. His voice is gentle, sweet, his grip on your wrists letting up just slightly. 

“What?” You ask, confused. 

“A safe word, just in case.” He bends over your body, sweeping your hair to one side so he can kiss gently at the exposed skin of your neck. “Choose one, baby. Any word.” You think for a just a moment before a random one pops into your head.

“Magnolia?” 

“Magnolia.” Tony repeats, testing it on his tongue. “If you ever want me to stop, say that word. Understand?” You nod, feeling even safer in his hands. 

Without another word, Tony pushes the bottom of your skirt up, forcing the material to gather around your waist. No garters today, the summer heat has been too much for stockings. Thinking back to the morning, you remember you had put in a pair of seamless black panties. It’s plain and normal, just everyday wear but Tony seems to like it enough with the way he’s playing with fabric. 

The warmth of his hand disappears and you brace yourself for the next slap. It comes down like thunder, the sound echoing tremendously in the empty office. Harsher than the last one, you whimper in your place, eyes shutting tightly. Tony rubs the spot where the redness has built up almost lovingly and he hits you again, harder. You bite your lip, trying to keep quiet. It’s unbelievable how wet you’re getting from this. 

“Do you like this?” Tony asks quietly. He lets go of your wrists and you feel him back up, the warmth of his body leaving yours. The creak of the chair signals to you that he’s taken a seat so he’s eye level with your ass in the air. Your pussy starts to ache with how turned on you are and you wriggle without meaning to trying to find some friction. 

“Yes.” You answer quietly. You’re not ready for another slap, this time on the opposite cheek, and you yelp in response. 

“Yes, who?” 

Oh fuck, so he’s going to be like that? 

“Yes, Mr. Stark.” You correct breathlessly. 

“Good girl.”

Oh Jesus, you’re gonna pass out. Tony touches your waist just slightly, fingers hooking into the band of your underwear to pull it down your legs. Without him asking you obediently lift your feet so he can get the whole thing off of you. Knees nudge your legs apart and you comply, of course you do. Cold air hits your bare pussy and you shudder, thankful for the steadiness if the oak desk to keep you up. 

“Such a pretty sight.” Tony says. You can hear the smirk in his words, that bastard. You want to scream at him but before you can get a syllable out his mouth is on you and your brain short circuits. 

He’s so fucking good with his tongue. It’s something that you’ve found out he loves to do and a girl can’t complain. Tony takes his time, tongue sweeping over your folds in a fluid motion. Unabashed you let you a moan, your hands turning into fists because you don’t have his hair to grab. It only spurs Tony on and you feel him pressing his face into you, tip of his tongue delving into your hole. 

“Fuck, Tony.” You moan, breathing in short pants. He slaps your ass in punishment for the use of his name and you mewl. “ _ Mr. Stark,”  _ You correct. He hums in satisfaction, the vibrations pleasurable against your body. 

Tony leans back to replace his mouth his fingers. He goes in with two at first, stretching you in preparation. It’s not enough and you press back, asking for more without a word. You don’t want him to finger you, you want him to  _ fuck  _ you. He chuckles darkly but doesn’t give you want you want. Instead he removes his hand and swipes over your whole pussy, your juices making everything slick to the touch. Your hips buck up when his fingers make contact with your clit which has been  _ begging  _ for attention. 

“Such a good girl.” Tony says happily. “Shall I give you what you want?” 

“Yes, please.” You beg quietly, back arching to present yourself to him. All embarrassment has been eradicated. 

“Say that again.”

“ _ Please _ .” You need to cum so bad, you can’t think straight. The sound of his belt clinking as he removes it has never been so beautiful.

“Please who?” The sound of his zipper has you keening like a drug addict who needs a hit. The rustle of fabric lets you know he’s kicked his slacks to the side. 

“Please, Mr. Stark.” You whine. A hand grabs your hair with no gentleness and pulls your head back, ripping a whimper from your voice. His other hand finds it’s rightful place on your hip, holding you down and keeping you in place. 

Tony wastes no time and buries himself inside of you with one stroke. You moan so loudly at the feeling of being full, you’re pretty sure the other floors of the building can probably hear you. Tony fucks you without holding anything back, his panting breath the only sign of his exertion. The sound of skin slapping skin and the feeling of his grip on you is all you can think about. You thighs tense up as your lower stomach coils, feeling tight and wound up. 

Suddenly, the grip on your hip disappears. Warm fingers wrap themselves your throat, squeezing the sides just so. You gasp, taking in as much air as you can before Tony constricts tighter, cutting off blood flow. You’ve never done this before, never done any of this before. Your body wants to fight back, wants to struggle but you deny that instinct. You bare your neck to Tony, allowing him to do what he wants, trusting in him. You trust him because you know Tony would never hurt you. 

“You’re such a fucking good girl.” Tony praises. It makes your emotions soar sky high, feeling so pleased that you’ve made Tony happy. 

It takes only a few seconds before the effects hit you. The feel of him fucking you is heightened as your vision gets dizzy and your head goes fuzzy. You feel his weight pressing you down, dominating every part of you and taking what he wants. You can’t even moan as he fucks you to completion, his hand too tight. Everything else falls away and your eyes flutter closed, voice lost. You feel consciousness slipping away just slightly as your orgasm approaches its peak, fighting to take over before the lack of air takes you out. 

You cum just before you black out, the sensation exploding so intensely your whole body shakes. You cum so goddamn hard that you can’t even control how your legs tremble and hips buck. From the peripheral of your consciousness you hear Tony let out a throat growl, plunging inside of you deeply before he cums as well. Wetness leaks out from between your legs, a combination of the both of you hitting your orgasm. 

You finally take in a deep breath as Tony lets go of your neck, the influx of oxygen a blessing to your body. The aftershocks of your orgasm make your body twitch, your pussy still pulsating with warm pleasure. Your view of the world stays hazy and distant, your limbs seemingly to heavy to move. You feel him pull out of you, leaving you empty but still strangely satisfied. He pulls your skirt back down, giving your rump a playful squeeze. Your unable to laugh and respond, your head still in the clouds. 

“(Y/N)?” You hear Tony say. He unties your wrists and helps you stand back up only for your knees to buckle underneath you, not ready for the weight. 

He reacts instantly and sweeps you up in his arms. Your gaze finds his face and he looks worried beyond belief. You want to wipe that off his face so you find the strength in yourself to whisper, “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure, baby?” He asks, setting you on your now messy desk. Tony pulls his underwear up with one hand and cups your face with the other. You reach up, your right hand ghosting over the muscles of the arm that is touching you. 

“Intense.” You breathe, letting your eyes closed 

“Good?” Tony wonders, stepping closer to you so he can hold you upright. 

“Mhm.” is all you can manage to give him. Suddenly you’re so tired, exhausted even. 

“Alright baby girl, let’s get you cleaned up.” Tony suggests lovingly. He tips up your face and kisses you softly, full of adoration. You kiss him back happily, feeling better the more time passes. 

It’s all a bit of a blur after that but you know Tony is taking care of you. He takes you to the bath, turning on warm soapy water so you both can soak. Gentle hands unclothe you and settle you in the beautiful tub. Thankfully Tony joins you once he’s undressed, settling behind you with you between his legs. 

The quiet is only interrupted by a few splashes of water as Tony takes care of you, soaping up your hair and making sure the stickiness between your legs is cleaned up. It’s a bit strange, being taken care of like this, buts it’s also extremely soothing. The roughness of your activity with Tony is smoothed over by his soft, knowing touches. Each kiss to your skin brings you back a little more, purging your mind of that haziness from earlier. 

Dressed in his shirt and a fresh pair of underwear, he slips you into bed. You’re scared he’ll leave you alone but almost as if he can sense that fear, Tony doesn’t. He’s soon under the covers as well, settling you into his arms and allowing you to rest your head on his chest. He’s more attentive than usual, fingers running through your hair and pressing kisses to your forehead. You wonder why. 

“Aftercare.” Tony says, turning his head to face you. 

“Hm?” 

“Aftercare. It’s important after a rough session.” He explains, reaching up to stroke your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Make sure you feel safe.” 

“Mm. I like it.” You smile and turn your head slightly, kissing whatever skin you can. 

“You did so well.” Tony compliments quietly. “Thank you for trusting me like that.” 

“I trust you with everything.” You tell him honestly. The statement makes Tony smile, makes him go to kiss you. 

“I love you.” He whispers afterwards. 

“I love you more. Always more.” You inform him, snuggling closer. He laughs at that statement. 

“As if.” He jokes. 

“I just let you choke the living daylights out of me.” You point out. “I think that counts for something.” 

“You liked it.” Tony snorts. “ _ Loved  _ it, actually.” 

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes and turn around, half heartedly trying to get away from him. He laughs and refuses to allow you, pulling you back to his chest quickly. With an arm he locks you in place, not letting you go. 

“We should do that more often, don’t you think?” Tony asks you, voice by your ear. His tone is playful but dark, telling you exactly what he wants to hear. 

“Yes, Mr. Stark.” 

 


	17. EPILOGUE 2

The two blue lines hit you like one of Natasha’s punches, knocking everything out of your lungs and causing your mind to go blank. You shake the stick again, waiting for it to change but it doesn’t. You take in a deep breath, scrunch your eyes closed and count to thirty. You open your eyes. Fuck. The lines are still there.

You’re pregnant.

The first thing you manage to feel is happy. A baby. Oh my god, a  _ baby _ . You feel maternal love sweep over your emotions and the burn of tears start in your eyes. To be honest, Ana has been anything  _ but  _ a joy in her terrible twos, taking her stubbornness from her mother and cleverness from her father. Still you can’t help but feel happy. A little tiny Tony, running around with a screwdriver and Iron Man helmet. Maybe a little tiny you, stethoscope and book in hand. You heart thrums steadily as giddiness swirls in your stomach. You imagine Tony kissing your child on the forehead as he tucks them into bed or blowing out birthday candles on top of a messy chocolate cake. 

Then the dread hits. What if he doesn’t want this baby? What if he wants you to get rid of it? What if you’re not a good mother? You’re not entirely sure of how far along you are but this is only your first missed period so maybe a month? Two? You both go at it like goddamn rabbits so it really could have been any time in the past few months. There hasn’t been any morning sickness. You don’t have any symptoms. Maybe this is a false positive. You would take the other test as well but you don’t have any pee left in you. 

“(Y/N), are you alright?” FRIDAY asks you, her voice echoing in the bathroom. She must have felt your distress. 

“Uh, um, maybe?” You answer breathlessly. “F-FRIDAY, can you somehow confirm my--my uh, my--”

“Pregnancy, (Y/N)?” You gulp and nod, unable to say it out loud quite yet. “I can do a full body scan if you would like.”

“P-please.” 

A sheer blue light envelopes you body, scanning you from top to bottom. Once it disappears, you take in a shuddering breath and look up to the ceiling. The lights are bright and blinding, causing black dots to dance before your vision. You shut your eyes and lights dance on your lids somehow forming bibs and bottles. Jesus christ. You can’t stop thinking about it now. 

A baby. You’ve never given it much thought before. It’s always been a perhaps, a maybe, a one day stuck in the back of your head. Your parents don’t have a dying need to be grandparents and the idea of having a child has never been prevalent in your mind. There was always something to do, research to finish, a job to attend to. But it seems like it’s about time, right? You’re nearing thirty, you have a stable and well paying job. You have a man that you love to death who feels the same in return. It makes sense. 

“I have the results, (Y/N).” FRIDAY informs you, causing you to freeze up. “Would you like me to tell you?”

“Yes. No. _ Yes _ . Yes, just tell me.” 

“(Y/N), you seem to be 6 weeks and 2 days along. Your pregnancy is currently viable, but a blood test will be needed to be one hundred percent sure.” 

Wow. Confirmed. 

You trust FRIDAY enough to not need a blood test; she was right when it came to Natasha all those years ago. You turn your head and find yourself in the bathroom mirror, looking just the same as you have ever had. You turn to the side, letting the hand that isn’t gripping onto the pregnancy test settle on your lower stomach. It doesn’t look crazy different, just a little distended. You had attributed that to the beginning of your cycle where your uterine lining is the thickest, ready to shed. But it’s not going to shed. Your baby is there. 

“(Y/N)! I have great news!”

The voice is Tony’s and suddenly, all the tenseness in your body leeches out. A strange sort of calm takes over you and you find yourself walking out of the bathroom. He’s there, beautiful and handsome and wonderful. There’s a big bright smile on his lips as he takes off his jacket, throwing it onto the bed. He turns to you, arms open wide so you can walk into them like you usually do, ready to give him a hello kiss. When you don’t, he knows something is wrong. His smile drops and his eyebrows turn up in confusion. 

“Are you alright?” Tony asks, making his way over to you. You can’t answer so you merely hold out the test at arm’s length for him to take. He does and your hand drops to your side, trembling.

“I’m pregnant.” You say with finality. Tony stares at the test just as you had, mouth slightly parted. He stays like that for a good thirty seconds before looking back up to you, eyes shining. The constant beating of your heart gets louder, sounding like a drum as your blood pumps. 

“Is this real?” He asks you huskily. “If this is another prank from you and Loki, I need you to tell me  _ right now _ .”

“It’s real, Tony. FRIDAY confirmed it literally a minute ago.” He licks his lips and turns away, a hand coming up to tug at his scalp. He walks over to the bed you have been sharing with him for the past two years and takes a seat. Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees, holding the test in both of his hands. 

“You’re pregnant.” He says. 

“Yeah. I am.” 

After a moment, he looks back up to you. Your heart almost breaks at the emotion on his face.  “Do you want this baby?” Tony asks softly. 

“Do you?” You reply, going to sit on the bed as well. You rest your back on the headboard as you cross your legs, Tony moving to sit in front of you.

“It’s your choice, babe.” 

Your choice. He’s right, it is your choice. Your body, your choice. Your baby. You speak before you think. 

“I want it.” The words you say breaks something apart in you, that something that has preventing you from feeling. The tears come like a torrent and your hands come up to try and stop them as you cry. It’s not until you’ve said the words aloud that you realize how much you want this pregnancy to happen.

“(Y/N), baby.” He says, coming to hold you. Tony lowers your hands with his own and pull you to him, hooking his fingers under your knee so he can move you. You sob, unknowingly why as you straddle him, arms wrapping around his neck as his find their rightful place around your waist.

“You don’t have to stay if you want to.” You manage to say between hiccups. “I won’t force you, you can be as involved as you want and you don’t have to pay for anything because we’re not married and--”

“(Y/N).” Tony moves so you can see his face and he looks so goddamn happy that you cry some more, feeling relief flow through you. You already know what he’s going to say before he says it. “I want this baby.” Tony murmurs. 

“Really?” You ask meekly. “Are you happy?”   
“I’m going to be a dad, of course I’m fucking happy.” A laugh breaks through your sobs and you nod, unable to say anything else. Tony kisses you, the smile on his lips making it almost impossible. “I’m going to be a dad.” He says beaming. “We’re going to be parents.”

“Right, that’s how this stuff usually works.” You tease. Suddenly he stands and whoops, spinning you around. You shriek, legs locking around him so he doesn’t drop you. He’s laughing and spinning so fast, you go dizzy. When he finally puts you down he’s kissing your whole face, smiling so wide that you’re scared his face is going to split open. Suddenly, he’s quiet and you look at his face to try and find what he’s feeling.

“Marry me.” Tony gulps after saying those words and you feel your heart jump to your throat.

“Tony, you’re not obligated to marry me because I’m pregnant.” You explain. 

“I know. I  _ want  _ to marry you.” He goes to brush back some hair that has fallen into your face and goes to kiss you sweetly, just once. “I want to marry you. That’s where we’ve been heading anyways. I have a ring, I already asked your family. Not to mention I was going to propose next week anyways and--”

“What?!”

“ _ And _ I love you. You love me.” Tony kisses you again, holding you close to his chest. “I already love this baby. Let’s get married. Marry me. Say you’ll marry me.”

“T-Tony.” You stutter. The answer is obvious. “Of course, yes, I’ll marry you.” He whoops in joy and spins you again, arms tight around your body. 

“A dad! And a husband! Holy shit!” He practically screams. Tony lets you down just so he can kiss you, pressing against you so firmly that all you can feel is him. He smiles so happily, it’s ao contagious and before you know it you’re smiling with him.

“I love you, Tony Stark.” You manage to say when he lets you breathe.

“I love you too, (Y/N).” He answers. Stepping back you feel his hand rest on your stomach, palm warm through the fabric of your shirt. “And I love you, little one.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the end, my friends. I hope Reader and Tony live happily ever after in this universe as well as many others. 
> 
> Thank you for reading guys <3


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